Masquerade
by Winged'Pollution
Summary: Dancing with a mask, laughing with a killer.
1. Hot Coffee!

**Chapter 1**

**Just thought I'd try this out, the idea has been bugging me for a while. I actually just wanted to get this out of my system, so tell me what you think. I am not actually **_**in **_**this story, just how I would act and stuff if this happened to me. I'm also older in this than I really am, so Catie and Tori, tell me what you think I should make you as. You guys are actually in this, so try and figure out which of you are which. All names and places have been changed for safety reasons, except for the obvious ones. Like Ezio. Yes, long-time fans (however few there are), I'm changing it up a bit. Ezio is very hot, even though he is **_**such**_** a man-whore. **

**OK, let's get this show on the road. BTW, this isn't a songfic, I just like music in my stories. They cannot survive without it, just like me.**

**Song for this chapter: Unwritten **_**(No one else, no one else can speak the words on your lips. Drench yourself in words unspoken, live your life with arms wide open. Today is where your book begins! The rest is still unwritten . . ."**_

_Reep. Reep. Reep. _

God, do I ever hate this alarm clock. I shot my arm out from the warm shell of blankets and fumbled for the tiny, tiny switch on my old-fashioned clock. I flicked the plastic button, and the horrid mechanical electric beeping halted. I smiled I my half-sleep and turned over, tugging my blissfully warm blankets up to my chin and attempted to go back to sleep. But being such a stupid genius like I am, my past self, and smarter self, set this alarm for that particular reason; I would never be able to go back to sleep now. Groaning, I threw off the soft covers and flopped out of bed, actually tripping and falling as I walked to my dresser.

Sleep began draining away from me as I popped my neck and began rifling through my dresser for something that I deemed worthy of wearing today. I settled for a blue top with short sleeves that came to my mid-upper arm and light jeans. A silver chain that was so fine it rivaled a strand of a spider's web was my selected jewelry. Now, for my regular Saturday schedule—abandon any inclinations to do any writing whatsoever, and sit on my ass all day and play old video games. If you all are wondering why I set my alarm on a Saturday, I don't know. Habit, I guess. I've had Assassin's Creed 2 for years, but it was still on my all-time favorite games list.

I popped the disc into the PS3, because even though I know Assassin's Creed is really an Xbox 360 game, I've always been a PlayStation girl. Assassin's Creed is rather dated by today's standards, it being several years since the game's release. But I have always loved it.

The signature white screen loaded the tiny black line up to halfway. And freaking _froze._ I sighed exasperatedly.And here I was, thinking that I might actually get to enjoy a nice afternoon of being lazy and now the thing wouldn't even load properly! I was so frustrated; it was too early for this. I decided to rely on the universal remedy for early morning distress: coffee!

[…]

After a few hurried minutes spent brewing up the dark caffeinated liquid, I sighed and threw myself into a kitchen chair. I loved my chairs; they hung from the ceiling by a single smooth white support and were red, cushiony and egg-shaped. Jumping into them and spinning around never ceased to amuse me. I would sometimes spend minutes laughing afterwards as I spun and got dizzy, like I was in some sort of centrifuge.

The coffee finished and I grabbed a mug and poured the drink in, a bit splashing over the edge in my hurry. I slammed half the cup down at once, not caring if it was straight black. I shuddered as caffeine flooded my veins. Smiling, I clutched the hot mug closer to my body and began walking back up to my room when I suddenly tripped over a large white and brown mass on the floor. A few drops of coffee spilled onto my hand as I regained my balance, and I winced at the sudden burning sensation.

Turning to see what had caused my unforeseen stumble, I caught sight of my bulldog huff around the corner, indignant at being stepped on so rudely. "Get back here, Gladston!" I whistled, and the bulldog came charging back to me as if nothing had happened. Sherlock Holmes was my favorite as a kid, and I loved the name Gladston for a dog, so I went with that. I bent and scratched him behind the ears, and the dog lay down again, content with being petted. I slowly stepped away, not wanting the good-natured puppy following me to my room.

[…]

When I arrived at my room, I glanced at the screen of my round TV and realized that the screen was black. That's never happened before, but maybe the PS3 is asleep or something. I picked up the controller and wiggled the analog sticks. When nothing happened, I pressed the smooth button in the middle of the controller. Still nothing. I huffed angrily and patted the top of the game console to try and jolt it to life. _Still _no reaction.

With a growl of irritation, I rubbed at the dust on the TV screen-as if that would do anything. But to my surprise, it did do something. A lot of something. I suddenly felt slightly dizzy, and the dust particles seemed to swirl around me, and everything turned white. . . er. Heat ran down my front as I dropped my coffee mug on myself. Damn. But there were more concerning things to focus on. My TV looked like it was wobbling back and forth through dimensions. That was definitely concerning. Nausea rose up and I swallowed it back down, not wanting to spew all over my immaculately clean white room. It felt as if I were wiggling my way through a wormhole in space or something. Maybe this is what people feel like when they're on drugs. The sensation intensified, and it felt like I was going to explode into a million little author chunks.

Then it was over as quickly as it had started. I blinked and flopped down onto my circular bed, feeling slightly sick. Not even bothering to change out of my coffee-stained clothes, I fell into a long, deep nap.


	2. Explainations

**Chapter 2**

**Yo my homies. Wassup in the fo-shizzle…? Yeahhhhh… Gangsta look not really working for me. I guess I'll stick with writing nerd. Catie, Tori, the Grim Creeper is coming for you! BTW, found another old inside joke. THE GENIE WITH A DIRTY MIND!**

**Awkwardness in this chap you guys so prepare your flaming boxing gloves! ;) I WOULD put translations, but I think it's funnier if you can make your own assumptions. If you want me to, though, I can. Ezio might be a bit OOC in this chapter, so tell me what you think. …So, that's pretty much it for my author's note. Oh yeah, one more thing…**

**REVIEW!**

**Song for this chapter: Misery Business **_**(**__**Well there's a million other girls who do it just like you, looking as innocent as possible to get to who they want and what they like, it's easy if you do it right-Well I refuse, I refuse, I refuse!)**_

I was awoken rather rudely; instead of my usual annoying (if not comfortingly familiar) alarm clock, my wakeup call was being shoved off my bed and having a blade pressed against my throat. Sleepily I opened my eyes to see a white robed figure actually pretty awkwardly straddling my waist. Furrowing my brow, I attempted to register the face only a foot and a half away from mine. Devilishly handsome, slightly familiar, and . . . where do I know this guy from? A club? A friend of a friend of a friend's house? Suddenly the last piece of the puzzle clicked into place, and I remembered where I had seen his face before. I slurred sleepily, "Oh my God, Ezio is in my bedroom!" Snickering quietly I continued, "That's pretty neat,"

Said assassin pressed the blade closer to my jugular. "Dove sono Io, donna, e perché tu mi teneva prigioniero?" He hissed angrily. This time I laughed outright, and I wondered if I was pushing my luck. Probably.

"Unfortunately I don't know Italian, my good assassin, because if I did I'm sure to have been offended by that last comment," Ezio seemed to grasp what was going on, and he roughly yanked me to my feet, not removing the knife from my throat, which I now realized was the very blade strapped to his wrist, only appearing when needed. His hidden blade.

I sighed and stretched, walking over to my TV. Ezio grabbed my arm and pulled me back, muttering what I assumed were warnings under his breath to me. I snorted and smacked his hand away, saying, "Don't worry, you paraniod assassin, you. I'm just going to do something," Ezio searched my face for a moment, then removed the hidden blade from against my neck. Nodding my slightly sarcastic appreciation to him, I then went to my TV screen and put on the special glove that would allow me to control the images on screen. The thing was actually more of a computer, but either way. You can watch televison on it, and that's good enough for me.

Making a sweeping gesture across the circle, the screen awoke and pinged to annouce the Internet being pulled up. The Internet was awesome these days. For example, what I was doing right now was awesome. Google translate really improved over the years.

I pulled up the new-and-improved Google and hit the 'translate' link. With my ungloved hand I turned on the microphone and when the page finished loading, spoke loudly and clearly into it. "My name is Anna. Welcome to my home, Ezio Auditore da Firenze," I knew I was pushing it using his full name because now Ezio would probably kill me. But maybe his expression would be worth it. I clicked on the pull-down lists and selected English into Italian, and pressed 'play'. A few seconds of loading later, I heard the Italian traslation of what I just said play back to me in my own voice and tone, exactly as I said it, plus accent.

True, very true, Ezio's expression was probably worth being killed for.

The assassin was next to me in a flash, blade against my throat once more. Rolling my eyes, I picked up the mic and said quite a longer sentence. "I know you would not hurt a woman, Ezio, so just let me go and we can sort this all out. I have a perfectly unreasonable explaination for why you are here in the year 2012. And now that we are aquainted, I assume you would like something to eat?" I purposely spoke a bit old-timey so he would get my gist better.

I replayed the phrase, and a thoughtful expression came over his face. I quietly hummed the Jeopardy! theme as the assassin took his merry old time thinking about what I had said. Finally I gave up and marched to a compartment in my dresser drawer. A shiver ran up my spine as I felt Ezio's eyes on me (not in _that _way, though he was probably thinking it), and I pulled two little glass vials out of said compartment. Each contained a tiny microchip, smaller then a fly's wing. Each had a microscopic picture of the earth stamped in green onto the front. Out of my dresser I also extracted a cliché straw, with which you could probably shoot someone with a poison dart.

"Hm, I never thought I would have to use these . . ." I muttered to myself. Turning the vials over, I dumped the chips into the palm of my hand, then set the vials onto the top of my dresser. Strolling over to a bewildered-looking assassin, I said in as soothing a voice as I could, "Now, Ezio, whatever you do, you may _not _kill me. This is for your own good,"

And before he could do anything, I put my hand on top of his head and turned him so that he faced the wall with his ear towards me. I then put a chip into the straw and blew, and I caught sight of the tiny chip flying through the air before landing dead-on target: inside poor Ezio's ear. The assassin yelped and cupped his ear with his hand, glaring at me.

"Hey, don't look at me, that was a good thing. Just like getting your ear pierced or a shot. It only hurts for a second," Ezio's eyes widened, and he jabbed an accusing finger at me.

"Posso capire! Come è possibile?" He cried. I rolled my eyes and handed the straw to Ezio.

"Just shoot this into my ear like I just did to you so I can understand what the hell you're saying," I instructed. The Italian nodded and took a deep breath, lining the straw up. I heard air shoot through the tube, and a nanosecond later a brief yet intense pain spiked in my ear. I cried out, then groaned.

"Well, that was unexpectedly agonizing. Now that the entire language thing is situated, do you want something to eat?" I turned to look at Ezio, who was giving me an odd look. Unconciously, I leaned away from his gaze slightly. "What? Don't look at me like that! Those are mandatory for all U.S. citizens. I just haven't used them up until now. To repeat my original question-"

"How am I able to understand what you are saying?" Ezio seemed completely shocked. Well, if you thought about it, who wouldn't be? Since he arrived here, I would assume only ten minutes have gone by. Maybe slowing down would be a good idea. I slapped my hands over my face, and taking a deep breath, started from the beginnning.

"Okay. What is the last thing you remember before you arrived here?" I inquired seriously. It took some work to keep a straight face, especially when I suddenly had the wild thought that-_Oh, my God, I'm an assassin therapist! _But I kept my composture. Barely.

Ezio gave a humorless laugh. "That did not answer my question,"

"Well, too bad! Answer mine,"

"I do not see why I should, as you did not answer mine!"

"Are we really arguing about this?"

"It would seem so. Fine, I will change my question. How do you know my name?"

"That would take a lot more explaining than your previous question. In fact, just leave the room for a second. I need to change out of these stupid coffee-clothes,"

Ezio raised an eyebrow, a smirk sliding it's way across his face. "Why can I not just stay here?" Now _that _was the Ezio I knew. Or . . . sorta knew.

"Because," I sighed. "You are a creeper. Also, you won't be totally alone. Go downstairs and say hi to Gladston if you want. Just leave, and I swear I will answer any questions you have to the extent of my knowledge,"

A wary look passed over Ezio's face, and I wondered what I had said this time. Oh right, he thinks there's someone else here. "Oh, don't worry. Gladston's just my dog. He's really friendly." Ezio seemed to relax, if only somewhat, and I shuffled him out of my room before he could protest.

[...]

After changing into a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, I picked up my now empty coffee mug and hurried downstairs, going quicker than I normally would in order to make sure Ezio didn't, like, accidentally kill Gladston or set the house on fire or something ridiculous like that.

Fortunately, my kitchen was still intact when I came into the room to see Ezio practically picking apart my stove. I made a little 'eep' and leapt forward before he could do anything too evil to my poor oven. I quickly closed the open oven door and turned off the gas. How the assassin had figured out how to turn on the _gas_ and not the _flame _amazed me. Wheeling around, I glared daggers into the grinning assassin, who looked as if he had no idea what was going on—which was probably true.

Sighing again, I opened a window and waved away some of the gas that was filling the room. I couldn't really blame Ezio. Even though it was inevitable that he would try to charm me, for no other reason that I was a _female, _I decided to be courteous. He was a guest after all. Ha, a guest to this _reality_.

"Do you want some coffee?" I offered. Ezio seemed to be searching for an appropriate answer. "You . . . have had coffee before, right?"

"Once," The assassin replied. "I did not care for it much." Oh, right, I remembered that part. He had coffee in Venezia.

"Okay," I refilled my own (clean) mug and carefully set the mug down on the circular white table, then proceded to throw myself into an egg-shaped seat. Acting like a complete professional, I interlaced my fingers and crossed my legs, saying, "Now, tell me whatever questions you have. Oh, and sit down wherever you like. A seat, the floor, the counter . . . I don't care."

Ezio sat in another white chair like mine that was supported from the ceiling and crossed his legs neatly and opened his mouth to speak, but I interrupted him. "Wait! One more thing. Gladston! Come 'ere, boy!" The bulldog huffed around the corner, and I hefted his weight into my lap before turning back to a rather bewildered Ezio and my coffee. "Go on . . ." I drawled.

"Fine. How did I get here, and how am I able to understand what you are saying when I could not before?" The assassin inquired. I sighed for what seemed like the thousandth time in the last twenty minutes.

"I don't think I can answer the first one," I confessed. Holding up my hand when Ezio began to protest, I said, "Stop. Let me finish. I don't think I can answer it, even if I could. For now, let's go with supernatural means. Now, as for your second question, what I shot into your ear is called an Earth. They are mandatory for all citizens of the United States and who knows how many other countries. Don't even bother asking me how they work, because I have no idea. But you can now understand any language someone says to you, for the most part. As long as the Earths don't have glitches in them. Which they usually do—for instance, if you really wanted to speak in Italian right now, most likely you could and I wouldn't be able to understand you. However, you would Number 1) need to concentrate really hard on not wanting me to know wat you are saying and Number 2) it takes a lot of pratice to pull that off, so most people don't bother. Another glitch the Earths usually have—I can still hear your accent. Can you hear mine? Nevermind. So, I'll just let you take all that in."

This was going to be hard.

**Please, if you have any questions, comments or complaints, review and tell me what you think! **

**You fill me with happiness, my sweet walrues!**


	3. A Movie?

**Chapter 3**

**Here I am, once again. Please review, because I enjoy encouragement! Love you guys! And Ezio. And Altair. And Desmond. And Leonardo. And—AH! Someone help me! I'm obsessed with the entire ancestry! Well, Leo doesn't really count, but I love him a lot, too. I love them all. Also, please tell me if I am making things too futuristic for only a couple years in the future.**

**To Shelleythesnail—Thank you for the review! Huzzah to people who actually listen to my insistent ranting about reviewing! Speaking of which…**

**Please review, my lovely readers. And thank you for making my day by adding a hit and visitor to my traffic page. And so I bid you farewell!**

**Song for this chapter: Waka Waka **_**(...choosing your battles . . . pick yourself up and dust yourself off, get back in the saddle. You're on the front line, and everyone's watching, you know it's serious we're getting closer, this isn't over . . .'Cause when you fall get up, oh oh, and if you fall get up, ay ay . . . you're time to shine, don't wait in line!"**_

After giving Ezio a moment to contemplate everything I had just said, I went on in my explaining.

"Now . . . um . . . any, uh, other questions?" I slapped on a purposely fake grin, and I saw his eyebrow rise skeptically.

"You did not answer my first question. How did I get here?" He inquired. Holding back a groan, I slapped my hand palm-down on the table.

"I thought I already covered that! I have no idea!" I cried exasperatedly. "Maybe it has something to do with those stupid pieces of Eden or something . . ." I continued, muttering to myself. "Those things were always messing up the fabric of the space-time continuum in the game . . ." Ezio narrowed his eyes, and I realized I had crossed a dangerous line. I found myself leaning away a little bit under the intense stare of his gold eyes. It was actually sort of freaking me out. And when I say "sort of", I mean "really".

"Uh . . . I mean . . . It was . . . uh . . ." I moved my mouth like a fish out of water as I searched for an appropriate response. "Uh . . . magic! Yeah, let's go with that."

[…]

The two of us sat there for a while. Mostly talking, with Ezio asking most of the questions. The only questions I asked were random and empty, just me trying to fill any awkward silences that popped up and slapped me in the face. At one point Gladston jumped down from my lap and, to the surprise of the assassin, took up his place in Ezio's lap instead.

"Your dog is . . . very heavy," Ezio huffed as Gladston put both his front paws on Ezio's shoulders. He then proceeded to slobber all over Ezio's nice assassin robes, and it took all of my not inconsiderable self-control not to laugh. **(Try figuring THAT sentence out.:))**

"Blame it on a high-fat diet," I replied.

Ezio had been in my house for maybe an hour or two before I was interrupted mid-sentence by the phone ringing. The assassin across from me seemed slightly mystified when I pulled out a tiny white circle and pressed the button on top. A hologram popped up, featuring the image of my best friend Leah sitting in her home of black and neon green, like mine was white and red. I smiled when I recognized the familiar straight dark hair and open, curious eyes. I had always thought that she would be like a soul mate for Leonardo, considering their will to look at the entire world with unquenchable curiosity. But I think Leah is just a bit too . . . how should I say it . . . _rambunctious _for poor Leo. The artist would lose his mind if he ever met my friend.

"Hey, Anna. You want to go see a movie at the 2.0?" The 2.0 was the closet (and coolest) theater to us, and even now, Marcus still owned every theater in the U.S.

"Um, I don't know, Leah, I think I need to stay home because . . ." I trailed off, not exactly sure how to break this to her. Leah, of course, had played Assassin's Creed 2, and let's just put it this way—if Leah saw that Ezio was actually here, he might regret ever being born. As in, such a sudden and possibly violent burst of fan-girl ecstatic-ness that it might just h=give both Leah and Ezio a heart attack.

"OH MY GOSH," Leah squealed. "Wait, lemme guess. You . . . got a new dog? Umm . . . you got a boyfriend! Wait, that _has_ to be it! Is he cute? What's his name? How long have you guys been going? Where—" Things were getting awkward, because with the Earth, Ezio had overheard that last part, and was now giving me a rather suggestive smirk. _Oh shut up, you man whore, _I thought. But I had some interfering to do.

"Leah, SHUT UP!" I yelled. My friend quickly clamped her lips together, looking as if she was barely keeping from exploding. The hologram wavered a bit as the phone moved. I remembered that I should prevent that awkwardness from going on, and I picked up something that looked like one of those old Bluetooths and turned it on, and flipped a switch on the white sphere that was my phone. Now the assassin whore across from me couldn't overhear our conversation. Well, not Leah's side, anyway.

"Listen, Leah," I continued in a whisper, though I didn't think that would do much of a difference considering Ezio was an assassin trained to overhear muttered conversations. "I _do not _have a boyfriend. At least, I hope not. But . . . You may absolutely not freak when I show you this. Please, please, please, _please _do not rupture my eardrum with your shrieking of fan-girly-ness."

"Why would I . . ." But I turned the phone to face Ezio, and waited for the reaction. I heard Leah's voice leaking through the earpiece. "Is that . . . wait. No way. _I know those robes! _OH MY GOD, ANNA, EZIO'S IN YOUR KITCHEN! GET ME OVER THERE SO I CAN MAKE OUT WITH HIM!" I winced, since Leah had yelled so loud, Ezio could hear her. So, my attempts to make this conversation less fidgety didn't work. I glared at the grinning assassin, who probably thought that by meeting Leah he was going to get laid. But there was no way I was getting those two to mingle. But, of course, the fates were against me.

'Shut up, you,' I mouthed at Ezio, who simply grinned wider. Looking back to the hologram, I gaped at the blurry screen. My friend had thrown her phone haphazardly onto her dresser, and I saw flashes of dark hair fly past the tiny camera. Little bits of dialogue could be heard through the speaker

"I mean you have to tell . . . how did this . . . he's freaking _th_ . . . you are coming to the . . ."

Leah was running around, putting on extra eyeliner and rifling through her black drawers for a suitable shirt. I sighed for the thousandth time that day, and concluded that waiting her out would be better than trying to argue. After a few minutes of feverish getting ready-ness, Leah decided that she looked nice enough to step foot outside her house, and picked up her phone again.

"Okay, well, now there's no way you're not coming to the 2.0 with me, woman. What do you want to go see? They're finally remaking the _Titanic. _But that would make things really awkward . . . hmm, maybe I want things to get awkward? We shall see . . ." Leah cackled evilly, and I cringed at the thoughts her cackle-laugh brought up. Painful thoughts.

**Well? Short, I know, but I know Tori really wanted this chapter to come out, and I wanted to make it longer but I can't seem to force myself to make chapters longer than, like, 2000 words at the most-ish. ANYWAY. Review, my lovelies.**


	4. Another Friend

**Chapter 4**

**I'm back and I'm jumping right into this one! Also, I'm a bit swear-y in this chap so WATCH OUT! Any problems report them to the m*therf*cking reviews!**

**Song for this chapter: Northshore **_**(…Don't whine, don't fight, don't tell me! Don't tell me! Don't tell me! . . . Don't feel, don't share, don't kiss, don't care, don't touch, don't want me! Don't want me! Don't want me!)**_

Goddamn. You see, were you to ask me why THE HELL I was sucked into this thing with Leah, I wouldn't be able to give you satisfying answer. I truly believe she drugged my food. Also, I managed to find clothes—guy clothes, no less-that actually fit Ezio. Now, I blame those drugs. If they exist. Which I think they do. Because I also don't know how I managed to find men's clothes in my house. Perhaps Leah bought them on the way over, but here's what has happened.

[…]

First, Leah arrived at my house. The plan was, she comes over because she lives within walking distance of me, and I drive us all to the 2.0.

Then, when Leah got to my house, Ezio put on this charming grin and jumped forward, almost running into Leah as he carefully planted this charming little kiss on the back of her hand.

I facepalmed myself as Leah practically had a stroke as Ezio gave her some mindless flattery. The worst part is, Leah no doubt _knew _that Ezio meant none of it, but she ate it all up like some sort of delicious artery-clogging brownie dessert. It makes me sick.

Later, insisting that things will get too awkward (actually, I said that I got a raise from the Trustworthy Publishing guys, and I had extra cash to burn, but I gave Leah the _look_), I suggested I invite our other friend Emily along to come and see the flick with us.

STILL later, we all bitched at each other a lot. The order of the whining goes something like this. First off, after Ezio changed, he did a lot of bitching about how the clothes didn't feel comfortable. Then I did a lot of bitching about how he shouldn't complain because he wears twenty pounds of assassin uniform every day and it's just a T-shirt and some jeans for God's sake, get over yourself. Then Leah bitched at me a bit about how I shouldn't yell at Ezio because he was being all innocent. Then I bitched at all of them to shut up because I was getting a headache and Ezio could just make do with the clothes he has and be quiet.

Then Ezio called me _bella, _(though I don't know how he spoke True Italian after having the Earth in for only a day and I can't speak True English after—well, only one day, but at college they told us that once we got a job, we would be given an Earth, so towards the end of the semester they started teaching us True English, amongst other True languages. That's when you can speak in a language and override the Earths. However, it takes a lot of practice and I couldn't really get the hang of it. Only a few phrases and words like "hello" and "how are you", but still! Not fair, assassin! Not fair!) and tells me to calm down, at which point I was very, very close to losing my temper and hitting him, preferably in the face, but Leah calmed me down (barely), and then everything was sorta okay. Sorta.

[…]

After too much bitching on all our parts, and Ezio was finally somewhat satisfied with the clothes he'd been given, Leah started complaining about how she is going to feel like a 'third wheel' at the 2.0. Ezio, being the man-whore that he is, asked what being a third wheel means. Leah explained the term to him, with which he replied with gusto that I need not invite another friend.

But I do, because now Ezio is learning modern terms. And now I am afraid.

[…]

And now, dear friends, we have caught up to present time.

I called Emily, and she picked up on the second ring. Relief flooded through me as I recognized her in her bright blue-and-green house, all blond hair and dark eyes. An odd combination, and strange to see, the dark eyes with such light hair. But originally her hair was black, and in the time I've known her, she's dyed it red, blue, green, purple, and streaked it as well. Blond was new, however. You could still see flashes of dark roots poking through the light yellow hair.

I didn't know if Emily was even going to come along with us to the 2.0 or have a stroke from seeing Ezio. Possibly both. But I had to try, or else I might dissolve from sheer humiliation of being out in public with only Ezio and Leah. If it was just us, well, things could get bad. Let's not go into detail. I don't know why I am so keen on not being alone for too long with Ezio, but I think it has something to do with the reputation he has earned from being a man-whore in Assassin's Creed.

Smiling, I addressed Emily, who was putting black nail polish on and arranging her wide collection of eye shadows while periodically glancing up at the camera. "Hey, Em, listen, are you, uh free tonight?" I managed to spit out. _Wow, Anna, that sure was articulate of you, _I hissed to myself.

"Hmm, depends on what you want to do," Emily replied, blowing absently on her nails.

"Leah and I wanted to go to the 2.0 tonight. Wanna come?"

"Yeah, sure, which movie?"

"Undecided. But I . . . well, someone else is coming, too,"

Emily jolted upwards, nearly unsetting her nail polish bottle on the table she was sitting at. "Oh my God, you got a boyfriend. I NEED to come over now,"

"_Shhh, Em, shut up,_" I hissed at the phone, glancing over my shoulder to see Ezio giving me a bemused smirk. 'Shut up, you,' I mouthed at him, a sudden wave of déjà vu coming over me. I furrowed my brow and whirled back at Emily, who was giving me the oddest of grins. "Wait, why is it so surprising I would get a date? WHICH I DON'T, but that was the first thing Leah guessed, too. What the hell?"

"Actually, it was the second thing I suggested." Leah piped in from across the room.

"Shush!"

"Well," Emily continued, raising her voice slightly so that she could be heard over the argument Leah and I were getting into. "In the entire time I've known you, Anna, you have only had three boyfriends. And I've known you since _seventh grade._ So you can see why we would be just a _little _bit excited. Plus, all your guys turned out to be throat douches anyway, so . . ." My friend trailed off, as if expecting me to finish the sentence.

"Okay, well, whatever," I hurried onwards, not really liking where this conversation was going, especially with Ezio within earshot and obviously listening in. "I will come and get you at, say, seven?"

"Yeppers. I will begin getting ready."

"'Kay, later, Em."

"Later."


	5. Time:Insanity!

**Chapter 5**

**Hey y'all. What's up? I love how I talk to my viewers like they can reply instantly. And even then, I know none of you would respond. You would suspiciously go offline just as I said hi. I know you people.**

**This chapter is going to be written a little bit differently, but I will go back to how I normally do it next chap, so try and keep up.**

**ANYWAY. Last chap was pretty short, so I hope I can will myself to write more. Not likely. And yes, I am listening to 'Eet' by Regina Spektor while replaying Ac2. Mmhmm. Yes, well, anyway. **

**OI! When 6:00 rolls around in this chapter, listen to "Sweet Disposition". It's a great song, and I was listening to it while I wrote that part.**

**Please continue, good people, with the fantabulous reviewing. And away we go . . .**

**Song for this chapter: Animal **_**(Here we go again, I kinda want to be more then friends . . . you're just a cannibal and I'm afraid I won't get out alive, no I won't sleep tonight . . . Oh oh, I want some more. Oh oh, what are you waiting for? What are you waiting for? Take a bite of my heart tonight! . . . And I won't be denied by you the animal inside of you!)**_

**Time: [5:13 P.M.]**

I sighed, checking my watch for the millionth time. Another thirty seconds past. What was with me and sighing lately? Glancing to my left, I saw Leah sitting on my immaculately clean white couch, and further down the line was Ezio, who seemed to be enjoying himself despite the stressful situation he happened to be in, considering the whole time-travel dealio. I believe, judging by his expression, he seemed to be enjoying the bits where he snuck some meaningless flattery into his conversation with Leah and watching her get all flustered. Slightly sickened, I watched with a skeptical eyebrow raised as my friend countered with a bit of sarcasm and a good-natured insult to the assassin's time spent with other women.

I smiled. Good girl, I've taught you well. Ezio seemed slightly put off by this comeback, and quickly stuck on a sparkling grin and instantly backtracked, easily making up for lost ground by adding more flattery. I rolled my eyes. How did someone put that many shallow compliments into one sentence?

Sighing once more, I was about to take a VERY short nap on my position on the arm of couch, when Ezio glanced up, catching my eye. He grinned at me seductively and I could feel my face getting red.

'Fuck off', I mouthed, glaring daggers into his face. Really, if looks could kill, Leah would be sitting next to a pile of assassin dust right now. Ezio simply grinned wider and turned back to Leah, pretending to be completely enraptured by what she was saying.

Douchebag.

**Time: [5:47 P.M.]**

How long can someone spend in a conversation before dying of boredom?

**Time: [6:00 P.M.]**

I was so anxious to get this over with that my eye was twitching. And seriously, who gets so anxious their eye twitches? Drumming my fingers, I sighed heavily and stood up, making Leah and Ezio look up at me after almost an hour straight of talking without even glancing at me, except for that one little grin with Ezio. I shudder just thinking about it.

Marching into the kitchen, I heard someone in the living room whisper something and footsteps thumping against the floor.

"Hey, get out of here, okay, Ezio! I don't really feel like being flirted with right now," I snapped. Turning, I saw that it wasn't Ezio that had followed me, but Leah.

"Dude, are you okay? You're acting kind of . . ." She wiggled her hands around. "Weird."

I put a hand on my forehead. "Yeah, it's just this whole thing with Ezio being here . . . I guess it's just sorta freaking me out,"

Leah smiled and threw out her arms. "Hug?"

I grinned back and embraced her. "Okay. Now, let's go deal with this troublesome assassin, shall we?"

**Time: [6:39 P.M.]**

Time to go!

I ushered Leah and Ezio into my car, the latter of which seemed deeply disturbed by the machine. For a few minutes he stoutly refused to get near the thing, but with a lot of whining on me and Leah's parts he finally agreed to get in the backseat.

I loved my car like Rebecca loved her Animus. I had spent a long time earning enough money from my leech-like publishers to afford it, and I was currently attempting to pay it off. The best thing about it was that the doors opened upwards, like those really expensive cars in movies and stuff, only now most cars did that. But I just couldn't get enough of opening the door _up_.

Anyway. Ezio was still uneasy about the whole car thing. He was obviously on edge, constantly checking to see if the trigger on his hidden blades were in top condition, and occasionally patting his sides to make sure all his throwing knives were present.

I put my thumb on the fingerprint scanner, and a little ding! went off, announcing that the car was on. Ezio leaned forward, eyes wide open, staring at the glowing scanner like it was a lobster.

"Are you . . . sure that this contraption is safe?" The assassin laughed half-heartedly, trying to make it seem like he was okay with what was going on. He wasn't.

"No," I said nonchalantly. "This is a car, by the way, Ezio. Oh, wait, on second thought, forget what I just said! I'm not going to be the one to completely obliterate all of time and humanity because I let a 15th century assassin know what a car is. This is more magic, okay, Ezio?" I practically screamed at him.

Ezio laughed then, really laughed, and I glared at him so intensely that I swear his shirt should've burst into flame right then and there.

**Time: [7:03 P.M.]**

When we reached Emily's house, she was already waiting by the door, "The Nightmare Before Christmas" handbag already next to her. She gave a little smile and wave, and came out of her house, letting the machine next to her door scan her eye; this locked all the doors and put up a security program that linked to her cell and told her if anyone was breaking into her house. I didn't like this system only because it doesn't help much because—well, that just gets me in a rile. Let's let sleeping dogs lie.

**Time: [7:03 and 30 seconds P.M.]**

"Em, you can jump in the back, Leah's got shotgun," Leah gave a little triumphant "Hah!" as Emily stuck her tongue out and went to the back, opening the door.

I heard the door open and Emily wiggle herself in, pulling the door down with her. Afraid of what I might see, I fearfully looked in the rearview mirror. Emily froze, slowly turning to her left to see the assassin next to her.

"Hey, Anna, who's, um . . . who's your friend?" Emily asked, surprisingly calm. I winced.

"Ezio Auditore da Firenze at your service, _signorina,"_ He purred, kissing the back of Emily's hand as well.

"Oh my goodness," Em said slowly.

I slumped over, sincerely downtrodden as of two seconds ago. This was going to be a long night.


	6. Sacrificial Candy!

**Chapter 6**

**Yeah, I'm back. Whoopdy fizz. Thanks for reading, my people! I shall continue with Anna and Ezio's relationship very slowly. I hope I'm not making her too much of a Mary-Sue. PLEASE GOD NOT THAT!**

**Song for this chapter: Bulletproof **_**(Been there, done that, messed around, I'm having fun, don't put me down. I'll never let you sweep me off my feet!)**_

The rest of the drive there was pretty uneventful; except for the occasional question from Ezio, always accompanied by a rather lavish 'thank you' for explaining. Both of my friends were torn somewhere between completely unable to comprehend this entire situation, and being completely and irrevocably smitten with the Italian in the backseat of my car. In my personal opinion, the flirtatious assassin was somewhat nauseating, but whatever. Don't mind me.

When we arrived, Ezio seemed to be at a loss for words. I smirked behind my hand as I looked at his disbelieving face. Yeah, all the flashing lights and extravagant decorations must put a strain on that poor little brain of his. I was suddenly and vividly reminded of two things: the first was a cat, and I imagined turning on a flashlight and a little cat named Ezio dashing about with giant pupils, trying to catch the little light on the floor. The vision made me want to laugh.

The second thing I was reminded of, after my comment on Ezio's brain, was his now-deceased older brother Federico. I fondly remembered in the beginning of the game, when you follow Federico to the doctor, and he says that Ezio's pretty face was the only asset he had. I laughed at the brotherly love. Quickly silencing that train of thought with a small lump in my throat, I focused instead on getting through today alive.

[…]

Money was a touchy subject. Somehow, Ezio had managed to bring his bag of florins with him without me knowing, and I truly don't know how he did that. As I began to offer the movie guy fifty dollars for four adult tickets, when Ezio finally comprehended that I was buying something. He quickly put a hand in front of me, making _tsk_ing sounds.

"Ah ah, you never make the lady pay," He smirked, putting a handful of coins on the coins on the counter. I coughed out a laugh, watching the confused expression on the counter teen's face.

"Um, Ezio, they don't accept that particular type of currency here. Or anywhere, for that matter," I snickered.

Ezio seemed extremely confused for a moment, but to eliminate some tension going on, I quickly snagged the gold florins and placed actual money on the table, adding another five dollar tip for the poor teen behind the counter who had no idea if this was a joke or not.

After we had bought the tickets, I grabbed Ezio's arm, whispering, "Maybe you should let me deal with the money, Mr. Assassin."

[…]

Well, that wasn't nearly as horrifyingly hellish as I thought it would be. Ezio was really not grabbing the concept of shutting the hell up when you're in a movie theater. He was periodically asking questions about what was happening, like why the people on screen were copying his and Leonardo's blueprints for the gun, and why the women were wearing pants. Really, I don't know why he didn't ask _that _question earlier, but whatever.

It was so funny, though. We were sitting there chatting or, in Ezio's case, flirting, and the lights started to go out, and Ezio's reaction was absolutely priceless. He probably thought it was a trap or something, because he practically stabbed me and made a lot of noise while doing so, also causing me to spill half of my mother-effing Lemonheads and a ton of my popcorn. I was ready to hit him. Buuuut I didn't because I didn't feel like condemning the rest of my candy as well.

After explaining in a rather impatient tone why the lights went out, I yanked Ezio back down into his seat, hissing, "Sit down! You are going to watch this movie and you are going to like it!"

[…]

After the movie, I wanted Em and Leah to stay over the night since I didn't have much writing to do tomorrow, but I quickly thought better of it. Ezio . . . and me . . . and Leah and Emily . . . all under the same roof . . . _sleeping _. . . and Gladston, of course . . . not making a pretty scene in my mind. _Not one bit._ So I drove Emily home first, Ezio giving her quite a lavish farewell. When we got back to my home, it was only me, Ezio and Leah, and Leah needed to go to work tomorrow afternoon, so she had to leve right as we pulled in.

I gave her a quick hug, saying, "We should have a movie night more often, you,"

Leah smiled. "Well, as long as _he,_" She nodded behind me at a smiling Ezio. "comes with us, you've got a deal." I laughed and we hugged again, and for good measure Leah walked right up to Ezio and gave him a great big hug right around his middle, since she only came up to his chin.

Ezio, who had been grinning before, seemed extremely pleased by this turn of events and returned her brief embrace. Leah grinned at us both and said a loud "Good-bye!" before strolling off in the direction of her house a few blocks away.

I puffed out my cheeks, exhausted, and trotted to my door while letting it scan my eye. Stepping into my house, I whistled, and Gladston came running.

"Hiya there, who's a good boy? You are! You are!" I ruffled his ears and gave him a little push, sending the bulldog on his way to his soon-to-be-full food bowls. Kicking off my shoes, I was about to finally relax when a horrifying thought struck me.

Ehhhh . . . Sleeping arrangements.


	7. I Lied

**Chapter 7**

**Why, hello there. Spare a moment of your time for this humble author's note, will you please?**

**I just wanted to give a special shoutout to everyone who made this the most Hit story I have written, and an especially big shoutout to **_**you. **_**That's right, you! Right there, looking at these words! I love you most of all. Thank you so much for sticking with me and Anna till…well, it's only chapter 7, but still! Thank you so much. I love you.**

**A bit of news here . . . My father, bless him, just revealed to me and my sister that we **_**MIGHT**_** be moving to somewhere in the vicinity of Albuquerque, New Mexico. And that is a **_**long long long long LONG **_**way from where we are currently living. SO! Any fans of mine that live around there, I'M COMING FOR YA! Lol, but seriously, watch out. :D **

**So, brief interlude into the life nobody but my friends care about, and now . . . on with the chapter . . .**

**Song for this chapter: I'm Not Your Toy **_**(It's all false love and affection, you don't want me, you just like the attention! I'm not your toy, and this isn't another "girl meets boy.")**_

Now that I was in a considerably more pissed-off mood than before, I promptly marched into the kitchen to fill Gladston's food bowl. As I poured the dry pellets in the metal bowl, Gladston practically knocked me over trying to get to the stuff, and trying to keep your balance after being rammed into by a bulldog and carrying a very large bag of surprisingly heavy dog food is not the easiest thing in the world. I felt myself falling backwards, and I flailed my open arm uselessly in an attempt to stay on my feet, but to no avail.

Just as I thought I was about to get crushed by a ton of dog food, I felt a arm wrap around my back as I fell, and another easily take the bag of food from my hands. Throwing my head back, I narrowed my eyes at the chivalrous (if not intensely irritating) assassin smiling down at me with a raised eyebrow.

Mustering up what pride that was still desperately clinging to me, I indignantly wrenched myself from Ezio's grasp and tossed the dog food into the cabinet. Ezio seemed slightly confused; apparently thi wasn't the reaction he usually got from rescuing the damsel in distress. Not that I was! I was just . . . saying . . . ahem . . . let's move on, shall we?

[…]

I tugged a pillow out of my closet that was so fluffy that it was almost overkill. Without even looking, I threw it over my shoulder, not caring right now if it hit any of my furniture. Gladston gave a throaty "Woof!" and half-heartedly tried to grab the pillow out of midair. Luckily, the dog missed and the cushion instead hit the intended target: Ezio.

The pillow 'whump-ed' into the assassin's face and I heard him give a small cry of surprise. Pulling the voluminous pile of feathers and white away from his face, Ezio exclaimed, "Was that truly necessary? You could have simply handed this to me!" He gave the pillow an accusing shake.

Grinning yet wider, I smirked, "Yeah, I _could _have . . . but this is way more fun," And with that I hurled a pillow at him that resembled the Essence of Pure White and Fluffiness. Chuckling at Ezio's jokingly indignant expression, I threw a few blankets at him. Finally the reason why I was doing this seemed to register (or not) with him.

Holding the thick white quilt away from his body, Ezio asked smoothly, "And what would all this be for, _mia bella?_"

"Don't call me that," I huffed, my somewhat good mood having just vanished. I turned around to glare at the assassin, who was currently putting on his most innocent and charming grin. "And these are for you to sleep on until further notice."

As I turned back around to rummage through more of my neatly stacked blankets, I distinctly heard a sigh from behind me. "Ah, and I thought the bed would have room enough for two . . ." If Ezio had been hoping to get a reaction out of me, well, he sure as hell got one.

Spinning around, I shrieked, "_Do not _even use that—that—that—TRICK with me! I can guarantee that I am not going to fall for all your little tricks as quickly as all those other whores you went out with did! So BACK OFF, assassin!"

I knew that that was probably uncalled for, but I couldn't resist. A little bit of that I wasn't even serious about, but how often are you going to get a chance to scream at the most womanizing assassin of all time? But I didn't have a joke in my voice, so inevitably Ezio was going to redouble his efforts to try and charm me. But there was no way I was going to fall for any of that. I was regretting yelling at him now for that exact reason, but there was nothing to be done now.

"What?" I snapped, mentally wincing as that came out harsher than I meant it to. But that didn't mean I didn't mind that it came out harsh.

Ezio gave me a long, searching look. Those eyes of his were scary; it looked like was staring straight into your soul. At length, he said, "Why are you doing that?"

"Doing what?" I said slowly, though I knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Being rude to me. You were perfectly fine around your friends, and when I attempt to speak to you, you are nothing but unkind!" I could tell Ezio wasn't mad, but it was still a little unnerving to have a deadly assassin talking to you like that.

Taking a deep breath, I said curtly, "Well, I know perfectly well that you are easy to get along with, and we have to get you back to 1478 eventually, so I don't feel like getting attached."

I knew for a fact that he didn't believe that lie for a moment, but passed it off, giving me final soul-staring look. Ezio picked up the blankets and pillows, arranging them at the other end of my room, and began taking off the majority of the weapons he had somehow smuggled with him in his regular civilian clothes. Then he began taking off the majority of his civilian clothes. I quickly turned away and jumped into my bed, not caring if I was still in my jeans. I just wanted to go to sleep and try and end this surreal, if not completely unpleasant, dream.


	8. Intimate

**Chapter 8**

**FINALLY! You guys do not know how long I have been contemplating this chapter. For some reason I feel that I need to have a scarily psychological chapter, so here it is! I hope you guys are staying loyal and not abandoning me once my writing starts to stink, because it is good and bad, depending on how much inspiration I have. ANYWAY. Hope you like it! Thanks for all the Hits!**

**AND I NEED REVIEWS, PEOPLE, IT REALLY HELPS WITH MOTIVATION!**

**Song for this chapter: Dancing With Tears In My Eyes **_**(Here we go, welcome to my funeral…All alone, it's dark and cold, with every move I die…I'm dancing with tears in my eyes, just fighting to get through the night…)**_

I opened my eyes, thinking clearly, unlike the usual grogginess that chased sleep. Blinking several times, I noted that I was laying my bed, right where I had fallen asleep last night after the movie with Emily and Leah and—

A shard of panic stabbed my chest, only to quickly be set to rest. It's okay. Ezio isn't going to act out at my house, at least I don't think. He is far too courteous for that, even though he hardly knows me. Settling back into my pillows, I searched for sleep again, because there was no light coming in through the windows; I assumed it must be too early, and then sun hadn't flipped her pretty blond hair over the horizon yet. **(Don't you love all my weird comparisons?) **Usually, I would have been asleep by now, considering my tendency to ignore the rest of civilized society when I was tired. But for some reason I couldn't quite grasp, I wasn't at all tired. It felt like I had slept for ages, and I was completely energized and ready to get up and out.

As I stood to stretch, I noticed with a start that Ezio was not in the makeshift bed of pillows and blankets that I had practically forced him into last night. Now this only made me wonder for a moment; instead of the normal circumstances, where if this had happened, I would have had something close to an aneurism and proceeded to tear my house apart until I found the assassin. But I was strangely calm. In fact, I was _too _calm. Something was nagging at the back of my head, an unnerving feeling that I couldn't quite seem to shake off, the kind of feeling that creeps into your house at night and stares at you while you sleep, the kind of feeling that lurks in the corner of the school and listens to a Björk record while cutting itself. I dismissed the sensation and got up fully, moving to my dresser to get changed out of the jeans I had passed out in.

But that was when I realized that I wasn't _wearing_ my jeans. My first thought was that I had changed before a fell asleep, but that was an immediate and pretty obvious NO, because no sane person would wear a dress for pajamas. In fact, it was a very pretty dress, one that came up (a little too short, I might add) to the middle of my thighs, with a tank-top sized strap over only one shoulder. It was a true red color; not too dark, like blood, and not too bright like neon. A beautiful, full red. Unfortunately, the clothing hugged a little too tight around my thighs, making it difficult to walk without shuffling like some dressed-up penguin. The fabric was infinitely soft on the inside, and I wondered if it was fur. But after a quick inspection, I decided that it was something nicer (and probably more expensive) than fur. But I blew this off too, not really caring all that much. It was very cool, though.

I turned to my—you guessed it—_circular _door, which had a full-length mirror on it, and gasped. My hair had been done up in an intricate braided/bun thing that was poised so precariously on the crown of my head that I wondered just how many bobby pins were jammed into my hair. A stark-white rose had been placed gently in the middle, where two braids intersected beautifully. A necklace hung around my neck, on an incredibly thin, yet beautiful, chain. Squinting, I tried to make out what the pendant on the chain was. It looked pointy. I moved closer to the mirror to get a better look, and got my third surprise of the night.

I was wearing the Assassin symbol.

I wasn't worried, though. I loved the beautiful symbol of the Assassin order, and the assassins are the good guys, right? Right? Yes. Yes they are.

Stepping into the hallway that led from the upstairs rooms to the stairs, I noticed that the hall was illuminated with dull reds and whites. How coincidental. Taking a tentative step forward, I heard—for some unfathomable reason—a violin begin to play. The walls of my house were dotted with tiny little white lights, but that was normal. I was able to turn sections of the house on and off from a switch in my bedroom, so apparently I had turned on the hallway Lights. The overall effect between the red and the white Lights, and the violin, was quite pleasing, if suspicious. Making my way forward, I noticed that the hallway seemed longer than normal. Weird.

I reached the staircase. A soft red carpet was set over the middle of the stairs. My feet, which I realized were bare, sank a tiny bit into the carpet. I felt like I should roll down the stairs on the carpet like a total retard, but judging by the way I was dressed, that wouldn't be appropriate. It would be fun, though.

I stepped my way down the stairs slowly, my feet making slight prints in the immaculate carpet. When I got to the bottom, all the lights went out except for the white Lights around the walls. An area of Lights on the ceiling brightened, making a sort of spotlight. In the center of that spotlight stood Ezio.

Now as you would imagine, this shocked me to no end. I stared blatantly at the assassin. Ezio was wearing his regular assassin robes, red and white, to match the theme. He smiled invitingly at me and held out a hand.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You want me dance?" I asked incredulously. "Now you _are _trying to kill me." But Ezio simply grinned and stepped toward me. I backed up, not really wanting to dance with Ezio—at least not right now. The Lights flickered a bit. I furrowed my brow and glared at the nearest wall, as if to say, "Shut up, house, don't fail me now."

Ezio took this momentary pause to grab my hand and pull me not unkindly to the middle of my living room, where I realized was where this was all going down. Ezio placed one hand on my hip and clasped my right hand; I placed my left on his shoulder. As I wondered where Ezio had learned to ballroom dance, we began twirling around, in perfect synchronization to the violin. It was all very intoxicating, and I spun around and around, the Lights built into the floor illuminating out every step, like something from "Avatar." I laughed, and pulled the rose out of my hair and tucked it into the sleeve of my dress, and the sweet aroma wafted up to me and it was heaven. Ezio spun me out with one hand, holding me at arm's length from him, and then reeled me in, so my back was pressed against his chest. His right arm was wrapped around my middle, and the other around my shoulders, holding onto my hand. It wasn't uncomfortable, just . . . intimate. Not really liking (and at the same time loving) the position I was in, I attempted to back off, thinking to give the excuse that I wasn't good at dancing (which I wasn't). But as I pulled away, I stared at Ezio's face. It was morphing and twisting, becoming more handsome and more horrible at the same time. His fingers elongated and tightened painfully around my arm; I could feel myself bruising. I yelled and struggled against his grip, but it was use. Turning around, I saw the Horrible Ezio open his mouth wide and a horrific screeching noise resounded against my eardrums. I screamed and I saw a bright red cross and a searing pain—

[…]

I woke with a scream. Gasping, I jerked straight up in my bed, covered in a cold sweat. Wiping my hand across my cheek, I saw that I had been crying. Quickly banishing any remaining tears, I checked the other side of my room to see Ezio laying where I had last seen him, in his bed of blankets; and judging by his measured breathing, obviously sleeping. Sighing, I slumped back into my pillow, happy that it had all been just a nightmare. Stupid subconscious. Ezio is NOT a monster, he is NOT! I refuse to believe it. My subconscious is simply overreacting to the entire situation . . . yes, that had to be it.

Shivering slightly, I snuggled deeper into my blankets and whimpered slightly. Not out of fear, for that was just hovering in the background. But because it was going to be _so hard _to get Ezio back to his own time, and if my dreams continued like this, than I was screwed. When it came to nightmares, I was the most cowardly of the cowards. Another chill ran up my spine as I remembered with painful vivacity how things had gone from beautiful to hellish. More shivers followed the chill, and no matter how deep I scurried into my covers, I didn't get any warmer.

There was no telling how long I stayed there, in my soft white sheets, shivering at the memory of that terrible dream. After a while a wane beam of sun pierced through my window facing the east. The sun didn't make me feel any warmer. Just as I was thinking about getting up, I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I practically screamed. Flipping around and throwing off my blankets and turned toward the infuriating assassin.

"W-what, Ezio! I was sleeping!" I knew he didn't believe me, and I quickly looked down. Silence for a few moments, and I felt Ezio sit next to me. I shied away, because after that dream, it was a bit unnerving being this close to Ezio. Also, I didn't feel like looking straight at him right now; he was shirtless. When I realized this, I blushed furiously and scooched to the other end of the bed. Chancing a glance upwards, I saw genuine concern on Ezio's face. Now, this surprised me. I would think that he would be a lot more distrusting after being magically transported several hundred years into the future. "I'm fine." I whispered.

"No," Ezio said quietly. "You're not. Tell me what is wrong."

I looked up, feeling like a little kid that had just been yelled at, though it was really the polar opposite of that. But I had no choice, because I would feel guilty if I turned Ezio down now.

"Okay," I replied.

**Well, there it is. Also, here's a great quote from my infinitely wise father.**

**ME: So, Dad, who was your favorite teacher?**

**DAD: (Thinking...then after a couple minutes-) Life. Or experience.**


	9. I Didn't Care

**Chapter 9**

**Well. I am starting to ****run out of things to say **** develop a life, ...or my life is developing me. I'm SO SO SO SO SO SO SORRY I PROCRASTINATED! :( I'll make it up to you, I swear! I guess I can give you all greetings from the whole crew.**

**Anna: Hi everyone!**

**Ezio: Heloooo, **_**bella. **_

**Anna: Shut up!**

**Leah: Hi Ezio! *Gives ribcage-cracking hug***

**Emily: *Stands awkwardly off to the side, staring at Ezio***

**Anna: Well, this is going badly. Take it away, AltairsFan!**

**Ezio: Why is it always Altair? I'm standing right here! And I'm shirtless for the beginning of this chapter!**

**AF123: NO! Altair is way better! I don't care if he has less emotion than a spoonful of rice pudding! Now let's read some goshdern fan fiction already. :P**

**Song: I Want To Tell You **

_**(I want to tell you…my head is filled with things to say**_

…_**when you're here…all those words, they seem to **_

_**slip away . . . and if I seem to act unkind, **_

_**it's only me, it's not my mind . . . **_

_**Sometimes I wish I knew you well; then **_

_**I could speak my mind and tell you, **_

_**maybe you'd understand. . .)**_

Ezio was shirtless. For some retarded reason this was the only thing running through my mind. Looking away wasn't helping either, thanks to the fact that he was sitting _right in front of me. _I mentally bitch-slapped myself. It's nothing. You've seen guys shirtless before. This is no diff . . . oh sweet Mary mother of God, his hair isn't in a ponytail. I could almost feel my tongue hanging out.

Now I literally slapped myself. Well, I only slammed a fist into my own stomach, but same difference, really. As I coughed, my mind seemed to clear, and I demanded that Ezio get his shirt on.

The Assassin seemed amused. "What, _bella? _Do I . . ." He purposely over-stretched, giving me a far too close view of his biceps. "Distract you?"

There is no scale on this green earth to measure the amount of irritation I was currently feeling. But I swallowed my annoyance and literally demanded that he put some form of clothing on his torso or I would kick him out of my house and leave him to figure out the future by himself.

I slapped a hand over my mouth. Oh, God . . . I just revealed to a man from the year fourteen-whatever Italy that he's been transported through time. Wait . . . why isn't the universe ripping apart at the seams? I glanced warily over at Ezio, who was . . . _laughing? _

Gritting my teeth, I growled, "You knew," It was not a question.

The Assassin laughed, showing teeth so white that he must brush with bleach. "There was no other explanation, _bella_,"

I rubbed my temples in absolute frustration. "Fine. Just . . . fine. I don't care, as long as you keep your hands off the keys of my car and don't rip apart the universe. My karma would go way down if I was responsible for the end of all life."

Ezio smiled, but it not quite reach his eyes. I could tell something was up.

"Bee in your bonnet, Ezio?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. He paused, conflict in his eyes. Before either of us could say anything stupid, though, I blabbered out some meaningless nonsense to stop Ezio from talking. He raised an eyebrow at me, and I narrowed my eyes and continued. "Just leave it be. I wasn't really planning on telling anything about that anyway. But there is one thing you should know. Right before I woke up, I saw a cross. Not religious looking, but . . . well, it was the sign of the Templars."

Ezio suddenly turned serious. "Where did you see this?" He asked quietly.

"I told you, just before I woke up. Whatever, I'm hungry enough to eat meat." I stood up and stretched, noticing I was still in my jeans and my My Chemical Romance T-shirt. With a sigh, I picking up a random book and started hitting Ezio until he got out of my room so I could change. The instant he was over the threshold I slamed the door shut, listening to him laugh on the other side. I changed in a flash, switching my shirt to one loudly blaring Paramore, and changing my torn blue jeans into black sweatpants. I rubbed off my smudged eye make-up, threw open the door, and saw Ezio sitting across the width of the hall a couple feet from me, legs crossed, wearing a Chesire Cat grin.

"What is it this time?" I asked wearily, turning and making my way downstairs.

"Nothing, _bella. _I was just thinking about how much more beautiful you are than any of the girls I ever met in Firenze," He pulled off smoothly. I rolled my eyes at him and was about to come up with a not-so-gracious reply, but my karma suddenly decided not to give a damn about me apologizing for the space time continuum; as I hit the last step, Gladston came huffing and puffing out of nowhere, and before I knew it the floor was meeting my face.

[...]

Fifteen minutes later, I sat in my kitchen, grumbling moodily. Ezio was clearly trying not to laugh, and was doing so by "sincerely" apologizing about not catching me, but I think he was just getting revenge on me for yelling at him last night. I held a bag of frozen green beans to my face (yes, everyone, we still do that) and drummed my fingers on my white tabletop. A stroke of inspiration suddenly struck me, and I jumped out of the chair, hurling the beans away from my head as hard as I could, and the half-thawed vegetables cracked loudly against my floor. With a satisfied sigh, I sat back down and put my feet up on my table.

"Why did you do that?" Ezio asked, looking rather perturbed.

"Because I don't want to do _anything. _All _day. _I want to sit here, and laze, and not care that my book has a deadline in six months, and _rot." _Closing my eyes, I stayed there for a moment before standing and walking to the front door. I needed to get the mail first.

Throwing open the door, the entrance revealed a nice day, with a warm sun breaking out of large, puffy, sickeningly cliche clouds. June was such a nice month. I yawned and ran out to the mailbox and began going through my mail right there at the curb.

"Let's see . . . " I muttered to myself. "Spam, spam, spam, catalouge, religious spam, newspaper . . .What the heck?" Another envelope was there, a nice one with fancy paper and glossy lettering with my name on it and an address I knew very well. My eyes widened. Elation swept through me. I took off sprinting, wanting to share the news with the closest person to me, which happened to be Ezio. And at this point I didn't even care.

Running into the house, I flew around the corner into my kitchen and barreled into Ezio, who seemed slightly shocked. Squealing with joy, I waved the envelope in his face.

"Look, look look loooook!" I jumped up and hugged him around the neck, all common sense leaving me. Before the Assassin had any time to process what had just happened, I jumped back and ripped open the letter and read it out loud.

_You are cordially invited_

_To the wedding of Mary-Alice Jacobson and Daniel Smith!_

_Save the date: May 21, 2013._

_P.S. The theme is a masquerade ball, so wear a big gown and a mask!_

_P.P.S. Love you, Anna! Hope to see you soon!_

Grinning happily, I looked up at Ezio, who was smiling in that I-don't-get-the-joke-but-I'm-going-to-smile-so-you-don't-kill-me way.

"It's my sister!" I yelled. "I'm going to her wedding! My little sister . . . I can't believe she's getting married . . . This is so great . . ." I stopped and looked up at Ezio. His smile had switched to a sad one. My heart started breaking, because here I was, boasting about my sister while Ezio had just lost most of his family. On a sudden whim, I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck, but this time I let it last. He really needed a good hug after everything. Ezio seemed to be torn between surprise and happiness. After a momentary pause, he returned the embrace, cautiously putting his arms around my waist. We stood like that for a few minutes, and I let all my sympathy for his family's unrightful death seep into him, and though no words were said, I think he got the gist, though not why I was suddenly all sentimental.

I pulled away, and smiled up at him. Apparently he was started to get some ideas and began to lean in, but I swooped away and waved a finger at him.

"Nuh uh, Ezio."

"Ah, _bella donna, _you wound me!" Ezio put his hands over his heart as if I had just gave him a nice little shiv with a rusty nail. I smirked in what I thought was a rather Lucy way and went into the living room. Truthfully, I had no idea what to do. _Shoot. _I thought. The mailbox was still open; I guess in my haste I had left it open. Bouncing outside, I reached into the black box to heck for any stray mail and was about to close it when my hand found purchase on a small, neat envelope. I pulled it out, surprised that I had not seen it before. Closing the mailbox, I turned the letter over to see who it was from.

In the middle of the thing was my name, printed in large, neat lettering. When I looked for a return address, I could not stop a small shriek that escaped my lips. I dropped the envelope and ran back into the house.

I didn't care how awkward things just were, because I needed a hug. I didn't care what the neighnors thought when they saw Ezio run outside and grab me after hearing my scream. And I didn't care what the random hobo passing down the street saw when they picked up the letter I had dropped, because all they would see would be three trapeziods, cleverly combined to form a triangle.


	10. Black and Red

**Chapter 10**

**Double digits, baby! Happy happy happy AF123! First time for any of my stories! 3 I love all of you for getting me on this far, so let me take this chance to thank: ClumsyAssassin21, Shelleythesnail, havoc2345, IRapeRaimbows, Dodectron, Dunedain789, XxKuro-koneko-nyaxX, Evenelle, Nameless Daydreamer, egiaprevolg, TheNinjaVampire, Hawkbelly, MaryandMerlin, Zuckaiy, and CreativeChica39. ****Listen to this song while reading the chapter (especially during the fry fight) cuzz I love it, and I know you all love me back! **** Now onward and upward!**

**Song: I Know I Know I Know, Tegan and Sara**

**"The weather is changing and**

**breaking my stride, I know,**

**I know, I know, it's just this day."**

Gladston watched me pace back and forth across my kitchen, his fat doggy head lolling back and forth, his sunken eyes disinterestedly observing me slowly lose my sanity. Ezio watched me as well, confusion and worry plain on his face. I, meanwhile, was rambling to myself out loud, my fingers rapping a tattoo against my leg, my heart pounding so hard I could actually see my chest twitching.

"This isn't possible . . . Abstergo doesn't exist . . . It's okay, Anna, just go . . . hang out with Leah and Emily, get a dress for the wedding, eat some McDonald's . . . it's just a prank or something . . . oh, I'm going to kill Leah if she's behind this."

Ezio, it seemed, had finally had enough. "Anna!" He said, standing abruptly. "What is this . . . Abstergo, and why has it gotten you so upset?" He put his hands on my arms, holding me still.

I shook my head, looking up at him. "You don't get it, Ezio. Abstergo . . . they aren't supposed to exist. But . . . they found me, somehow, and now . . ." I stopped, realizing that Ezio was still not getting it. _Just get it over with, Anna. He has to know. _"Abstergo, they're Templars. And they have training, and technology, the best of the world. I have no idea what they want with me, but it can't be good."

Just the expression on Ezio's face made me nervous. I saw anger, and slight confusion, but I could tell he was making a plan. I broke free from his grasp and fell back down into a chair. Grabbing my phone, I dialed Leah's number. When she picked up, her voice sounded tired. She hadn't bothered to turn her screen on, so I could only see her profile picture of a cat wearing a neon green top hat and giving the camera a freaky cat grin.

She yawned. "Hello?"

"Leah, I really need to-did I wake you up?"

"Um, if by wake up you mean that I was sleeping, and your annoyingly loud Black Veil Brides ringtone made me concious, then yes, you woke me up."

I swiveled to look at my clock. "Le, are you kidding me? It's one in the afternoon, on a Tuesday."

"So?"

"So, you aren't-you know what, whatever. You need to get over here. Now. Pick up Emily, too, she needs to hear this."

"Can I get coffee first?"

"Only if you get me one, and get some fries from McDonald's too."

"You're eating McDonald's? Jesus, this is getting serious."

I laughed, but stopped when I remembered why it was so serious. "Yeah. Just . . . hurry up."

I hung up and turned to confused Assassin next to me. "Listen, Ezio, Abstergo aren't like the Templars from 1480. They have lots of advanced technology, and they are way worse than the Templars back then. I can't even imagine what they'll do if they get their hands on you . . ."

Ezio furrowed his brow. "Why would they want me?"

I pressed my lips together. There was no way I could tell him anything about his future, or the Apple, before any of it had come to pass; I had already gotten off easy with the whole Ezio-now-knows-he's-in-the-future thing, so I decided to wing it. First things first, though.

"Where were you before you arrived in my bedroom?" I asked. I needed to know how far along he was in his life before I said anything stupid.

Ezio looked confused at my question, because it had nothing to do with the answer to his. "The last thing I remember . . . I was with Bartolomeo, in Venezia, looking for someone named Bianca . . . I fell unconcious, and when I woke up, everything was white. I thought I must have died, so I started walking, and I was blinded for a moment. When I could see, I saw you."

I mulled that over for a second. Bartolomeo, looking for his big-ass sword Bianca. I smiled at the scene. Ezio's expression in the game when Bartolomeo revealed that it was not a woman he was looking for, but a sword, was picture worthy. Biting my lip, I tried to come up with a suitable lie to tell Ezio.

"Abstergo wants you because you, er, have something they want." There. It wasn't a complete lie. And I could tell that Ezio knew I wasn't giving him the complete truth, but he didn't say anything. He stared at me for a long moment, trying to get me to break and tell him everything, but I met his gaze silently. We sat there staring at each other for a few minutes before several excited knocks on the door made me look away.

I got up and opened the door to see Leah and Emily, Leah holding two frappe's from Starbucks and Emily holding her own and a bag with a blissfully recognizable golden M on it. They smiled, and I grinned and took the caramel frappe from Leah and the bag from Emily.

"Thanks, guys. I needed this. But you need to see something."

They took their seats at my kitchen table, Emily sitting across from me, and Leah sitting almost awkwardly close to Ezio. From the pocket of my sweatpants I pulled the envelope bearing the Abstergo symbol and set it in the middle of my table. Several reactions happened at the sight of the piece of paper. Emily looked disturbed and slightly frightened, but she didn't really play Assassin's Creed, so she had no idea. Leah gasped and lunged at the envelope as if to rip it apart, but I quickly snatched it away. Another reaction happened, however. I looked back up and my eyes magically magnetted to Ezio concerned face. I smiled reassuringly at him, making a mental note to apologize for being a pshyco skank to him yesterday.

Looking back at my friends, I said, "I haven't opened it yet. What do you think?" I waved the horrid thing in the air, much like I had done with my sister's wedding invitation. Silence. Biting my lip, I turned it over and ripped the envelope open. Inside was a single sheet of paper, folded once. I pulled it out and put my thumb underneath the folded part. Cold fear iced over my fingers, and I hesitated, suddenly not wanting to know what was written there. I dropped the paper and grabbed the McDonald's bag, ripped it open, grabbed a giant thing of fries, and jammed a couple in my mouth. Mm, so greasy, so salty, so cholesterol-tastic, and so good. I smiled at the delicious potato posers, and suddenly, simultaneously, Emily and Leah both snatched at the bag and ripped out their own. Leah shoved another giant container into Ezio's hands, laughing as she forced a handful into my mouth. I tore the fries from her hand and threw them at her, but she moved at the last second and the torn-up fries landed smack in the middle of Ezio's face.

Three of us froze. Ezio reached up and removed the potatoes from his face. I feared the worst, when suddenly a wide grin split his face and with a laugh he threw them back at me. What ensued was possibly the most epic fry fight in the history of the universe. In the end, no fries were left standing, including the four of us. At some point I had tried to throw a handful of the stuff at Emily, and my arm swung too far, and I ended up punching Ezio in the side of his face. Leah yelled at me a lot, and Ezio was forgiving me far too extensively, and I was cracking up and saying that the punch was revenge for not catching me when I tripped over Gladston and down the stairs. Leah and Emily stayed over, because I didn't feel like cleaning up the fries by myself, they had been over since two thirty, and another night alone in my house with Ezio would probably have driven me insane.

[...]

We gathered all the pillows and blankets I owned and piled them in a pile. The only rules were: you got what you could grab. On the count of three, the four of us dove into the center of my living room floor and started snatching at anything we could get our hands on. Ezio, somehow, got pretty much ninety percent of what was down there, which confused me, and I ended up with only a very fluffy pillow, my favorite.

I was glaring at the thing when Ezio butted in. "You could always share with me, _bella,_"

"Oh, ha ha, Ezio," I sneered sarcastically. "In your perverted dreams."

Ezio shrugged and tossed a large, black and red quilt at me. I caught it and shot him an incredulous look. "Are you kidding me?"

The Assassin looked surprised. "Why would I kid?" He looked confused but also somewhat amused.

"I'm _not _taking away your blankets, Ezio. Don't worry," I gave a resigned smile. "I'm used to sleeping on the couch."

I tossed the blanket back at him. He caught it, and something flickered in his eyes, and if I hadn't known better I would have thought that he looked unhappy with me, but I shook it off and jumped onto my couch. Leah curled up in my chair, and Emily laid on her side next to the landing leading upstairs. I reached up and turned off the one remaining light, and my house went dark. The envelope was all but forgotten.

[...]

When I woke up the next morning, I noticed that I was quite a bit warmer than I was last night. I curled back into a blanket that I didn't recognize until later in the day. A warm, heavy, black and red quilt.

**I'm sorry for that fluffyness, but I realllllly want to get both the plot moving and their relationship more involved. SO! Review, and the end of Part I will be at Chapter 15! Later, lovelies, and follow the Creed!**


	11. Little Pigs Little Pigs, Let Me Come In

**Chapter 11**

**:D Thank you, platinumblind, because I LOVE YOU. You made my day, and if I ever find you I shall give you a hug and a cookie! :D Your review made my day! (Oh and everyone else, too. ;D) 3 OK, AND ONTO THY CHAPTER! :) **

**Song: Teenagers, My Chemical Romance**

**"So tuck in your clothes,**

**I'll strike a violent pose,**

**maybe they'll leave you **

**alone, but not me!"**

We had eggs for breakfast. Scrambled, with a bit of salt. Leah and Emily left at eleven, Leah making me promise that I would have them over again while Ezio was still staying with me.

I began picking up the dishes, putting the dirty, salty egg plates under hot water. As I began scrubbing a white plate, a pair of arms encircled my waist. I whirled around, and for a moment I wondered why Ezio was holding my wrist, and I realized that I had almost smashed the ceramic into his head. The side of his mouth quirked up in a half smile, and it crossed my mind that if that plate had hit home, I might just have _killed_ the greatest _killer_ that ever walked the Earth.

I laughed out loud and turned slightly, putting the plate back into the water. When I faced Ezio again, I quickly pulled his arms off from around my waist.

"Why are you constantly trying to flirt with me, Ezio? It's not going to get anywhere." I sighed. Ezio looked amused.

"Because I _can _flirt with you, _bella_," He replied. I rolled my eyes.

"Whatever, Assassin," I said. "You shouldn't anyway. I'm getting you back to Italy if it's the last thing I do." A determined tone hit my voice. "You have a family, you have Claudia and Maria, and Mario and Monteriggioni. You need to go back."

Ezio's expression became suspicious. "How do you know of them?" He asked me, with narrowed eyes.

I rolled my eyes again. "You know what, let's just say for convenience that I know everything about your life, past and future." I was pushing the envelope, but at this point I didn't care. The laws of the space-time continuum seemed to be taking a field day anyway.

Ezio seemed shocked, finally. It felt satisfying to finally give him a surprise, because _nothing fazed this guy. _It felt like I was constantly having to pop metaphorical balloons in his face to get him to even blink. But there was nothing I could do. It _was _Ezio we were talking about, here.

I sighed good-naturedly. "C'mon, you freak. I need to show you what Pringles are."

The envelope was under my chair.

**[...Seven Days Later...]**

I found myself lounging on the couch, watching a rerun of Criminal Minds, a Dr. Pepper in one hand and the sensor-glove on the other. It was a very similar one to the thing I used to control the giant computer in my room. I sipped my drink and watched Mattew Gray Gubler look mighty fine.

Summer had just reached it's peak, when time seems to turn into wax and the air becomes solid enough to cut with a knife and eat it on some crackers with a glass of nice wine. Ezio had long since abandoned trying to get me to let him wear his Assassin uniform in public; it was far too hot to be wearing anything but shorts and a tank top. I had set up a tall fan, but it about as much to cool us off as a fly's wings did. Our bodies began sticking to the furniture; and once or twice I got into an ice cube fight with Ezio, the result of which ended up with water all over my nice white furniture and a hellish trip to the local gas station for more ice. Since I hadn't gotten much more than a chapter done on my book, I had a feeling my publishers were intentionally screwing me. The meager income from my previous, not-very-substantial novel was just BARELY enough to keep me going on black ink until I got the next out in December or so. Which meant the most terrifying thing imaginable-no air conditioning. The heat was making me go insane . . .er. Coherent thought was becoming increasingly hard to establish, and once I glanced at the thermometer and thought it said two hundred degrees Farenheit, when it was actually just one hundred fifteen.

Ezio was looking somewhat bored, sitting in my chair on the other side of the room. He had taken the "liberty" (as he put it) to remove his shirt, and I was trying my best to not look at him. Despite his apparent boredom, I thought that it looked like he was thinking preetty deep about something. Every now and again I would realize that he was looking at me, and the second I turned to look at him he conveniently happened to be watching Minds with unnerving interest. Though I knew for a fact that he had literally no idea what they were talking about.

With a sudden laugh, the mental image of Leonardo da Vinci popped into my head, and I imagined him watching Matt Gubler and Shemar Moore sift through the minds of serial killers, Leo exclaiming enrapturedly, "How exciting!"

[...]

A few suspiciously suspicious glances, two Dr. Peppers, a sandwich and three hours worth of Criminal Minds later, I was forced to get off the comfort of my couch to answer the door. The neat, even sort of rapping was getting very annoying.

I stood up and shuffled to the door, trying to hurry up so I didn't look rude, but at the same time trying not to trip over my own television disoriented self.

I yanked open the door, and gasped loudly. A horrifyingly familiar face, and one that I had secretly hated, even when there was no real reason to other than the fact that that person was just being an ass to Desmond.

In my doorway stood Dr. Warren Vidic.


	12. Abstergo: Captured

**Chapter 12**

**Today as I was going to pick up Chinese food at an awesome place down the street from my house (Ching Hwa, Catie and Tori-don't you guys love that place?), there were red flares set on the road, (Hwy 164, Tori and Catie) closing off two lanes. Ahead of me, there had been a serious accident and it looked like (judging from the policecars, fire truck, and ambulances) someone had been killed. As Assassin's Creed fans, we, ****and I mean all of us,**** joke about death a lot, tending to describe various ways in which pathetic rooftop and heavily armed guards met their ends. Though they are only computer generated, I now realize, and reflect upon now as I write this, that death isn't quite as funny when you drive past it.**

**Thank you to platinumblind, Nameless Daydreamer, ClumsyAssassin21, RavenStark, Zuckaiy, CreativeChica39, and Kudomeya for reviewing. Enjoy the chapter.**

**Song: Run For Your Life, The Beatles**

**"You better run for your life**

**if you can, little girl,**

**hide your head in the sand, little girl."**

I gasped, but quickly muffled it, trying to act cool and ignore the steel eyes glinting at me from my doorway. The sweat on my skin, previously from the heat, turned to ice. My voice was lost in a torrent of unbridled terror. I opened my mouth to yell for Ezio, but nothing seemed to be coming out. The couch he lay on was only a few feet from the doorway, but his back was to me, and it was only a matter of seconds before he turned around. My eyes settled on the back of the Assassin's head, silently willing him to turn around. His unevenly cut hair was falling out of his ponytail, I noticed; perhaps my senses were on red alert from the fear of seeing possibly the most evil man alive casually standing in my doorway. Complete with labcoat and white coffee mug.

"Anna?" Ezio's voice cut curiously through the still air. Music to my ears. My vocal chords jump-started, as if all they needed was a little push. I was about to reply, when suddenly my brain fired off blaring alarms. Vidic was still on my doorstep, still waiting for me to greet him, still obviously waiting for me to say something. I couldn't say Ezio's real name. What's a good Italian name . . . I thought of the first one that popped into my head.

"Ugo, dear, why don't you come over here. We have an unexpected guest." I said to Ezio, trying to make my tone light. For now, at least. I would set Ezio on Vidic if my last breath was the order to kill him. Not that I ordered Ezio around; he just kinda did whatever I asked him to. Fold laundry, wash Gladston, you name it.

Ezio twisted around on the couch to look at me, a mixture of confusion and slight pleasure on his face. I pleaded with my eyes, begging him to go along with it and not say anything. He understood, and stood up to join me at the doorway. Wincing at whatever ideas Ezio was going to get from our little play, I put an arm around Ezio, trying not to be too stiff and unconvincing. Thankfully, he caught on and draped an arm across my shoulders. For a moment, the shadow of a smile ghosted across his face but was quickly swallowed by an unreadable mask.

"Yes, my dear?" I could tell he was forcing the Italian from his words, or he would have said _mia cara_ instead of the English version. "Who is it?"

I smiled. Hopefully this little act would throw Vidic off, but I had no idea why he would want me.

I took a deep breath. "This is Dr. Vidic, hon. He's an . . . acquaintance."

The evil doctor sent me a cold smile. "No need for theatrics, Ms. Johnson," Damn. Nothing gets past this guy. "I'm afraid you're going to have to come with us. I would suggest doing so cooperatively, or I will be subjected to using force." He turned briskly and began walking back outside, when he called back at the last second, "No need to bring anything with you."

One would think he meant clothes or luggage, but I read between the lines all too well. Authors have that little skill. There was no way I was leaving Ezio behind. In fact, there was no way I was even _going _with this psychopath.

Stalking outside, I marched up to Vidic, screaming at him as I went. "Hey! Bastard Templar!" Well, that got his attention. He turned to face me, a slightly surprised expression on his face. There was no chance for him to completely register anything, though, as I walked right up to him and punched him in the nose. A splash of scarlet streaked across his face, and I felt the bone in his nose break. I quickly drew my hand back, my knuckles searing. Rubbing my sore fingers, I heard Ezio jog up next to me and felt a warm hand on my shoulder, hurriedly manuevering me away from the son-of-a-douche that I had just punched.

The rest was a blur. I heard an angry yell, and Ezio's warm, comforting hands were replaced by pairs of strong, unyielding fists, and I kicked and struggled agaist the cold hands. I heard Vidic's voice say something above the racket of yells and punches, somehwere aong the way realizing that Ezio was fighting off the Abstergo guards as well as me. How sweet, he was fighting for my honor. Vidic screamed again, and I caught a glimpse of him, a demonic look in his eyes, blood flowing down his face, and someone struck `e on the back of the head, directly on the crown. Black flooded the edges of my vision, and the last thing I heard was Ezio, and the sound of a blade cutting through the air.

[...]

A headache woke me, a metaphorical knife cutting into my temple. Rubbing my temples with my thumb and middle finger, I sat up and instantly regretted it. The headache increased tenfold, and a small lance of pain hit the back of my head. I fell back into the soft, white sheets and closed my eyes, trying to remember what happened. I remembered Warren Vidic coming to my house . . . I remembered playing Ezio's girlfriend/wife, and punching Vidic in the face, and getting into a fight, and then . . . nothing.

Looking around, I tried to take in the bedroom from where I was laying. A large white closet, filled to the brim with white T-shirts and black pants. A small door off to the right lead to a tiled room, probably a bathroom. Another on the left was closed, a small flashing white rectangle on the wall next to the door. I furrowed my brow, and my head hurt again. I thought vaguely that I had seen this room before. I stared at the ceiling, half expecting to find red painting there. Or blood, as the case may be. This was the same room Subject 16 had stayed in, the same Desmond had been held captive in. It was June, and if my fangirly-ness was correct, and more than a week hadn't passed since I was unconcious, then . . . Desmond was due to arrive in Abstergo any day.

I felt the timelines hit me like a slap to the face. Ezio from 1476, Desmond and Vidic from 2012. . . everything was getting so weird. A strange butterflying feeling lit in my stomach at the thought of meeting Desmond. He was always one of my favorite characters, aside from Leonardo, Malik, Shaun, Rebecca, Altair . . . yeah, everyone. A stab of panic hit me as my thoughts drifted to Ezio. What if he hadn't gotten out alive? What if Vidic and all his Templars killed him? What if, what if, what if . . . I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. This was no time for that kind of thinking. I needed to stay calm, stay collected. Rubbing my temples again, I threw my blankets off me and started toward the door which I already knew was locked. A second later, after my brain stopped having a stupid attack, I realized that my My Chemical Romance shirt and black sweatpants had disappeared and in their places a knee-length black skirt and collared white blouse. For a moment the spontaneous clothing change reminded me painfully of my nightmare a week ago, and I inwardly shuddered. Pushing the thought away, I tried the door. Locked.

I used the bathroom and, not trusting the privacy of the shower, used the immaculately white sink to splash cold water on my face. When I glanced up at the crystal clean mirror on the wall, I winced at the sight of dark red, dried blood on the back of my neck. Nice. Abstergo could change my clothes, but they didn't give a flying monkey about the _dried blood on my head_. If I could give a wedgie to the next agent of Abstergo that I saw, I would wihout hesitation.

I returned to the bedroom. Just as I did so, the metal door slid open, and a slender blond woman wearing the same uniform as me walked in, carrying a small tray with a plain white bagel and a far too small cup of black coffee. A thimble's worth of sugar and tablespoon of thick cream sat off to the side. The blond straightened up, and I felt my mouth drop at the sight of the recognizeable, crisp figure.

_"Lucy?" _I gaped. She looked confused for a split second, which instantly turned to suspicion.

"Do I know you?" She asked sharply. I held up my hands in a surrender.

"No, but. . . I know you. Listen, Lucy," I asked. "Just listen to me for a second. I can't tell you everything because it isn't possible. But Ezio Auditore da Firenze appeared in my house about a week ago. Do you know who he is? I suppose not . . . You don't know Desmond, either, do you? He should be here any day now. Ezio is one of his ancestors. Desmond is your Subject 17. And I know where your allegiances truly lie, Lucy. And _please _trust me when I say that I am on the same side, but I'm not much use to you. And I would _never _say _anything _about it. I just want to know why I'm here, and what you want from me,"

Lucy studied me for a long moment. "I can't trust you," she said at length. "But I don't think you're lying to me. I guess we will find out later." She gestured at the food. "Eat." She commanded simply. I smiled slightly, and thought that this could be TRUST I'm building, here!

After Lucy left, I slammed the coffee down black and ate the bagel dry. Pulling my skirt down further, since it was sorta hiking up my legs (which is why I despise skirts), I followed her out into the large room I had studied so obsessively while playing Assassin's Creed, the original. And in the dead center of the room sat the one thing that had started it all, that had dug through Desmond's memories like a hobo digs through trash cans.

The Animus.

The metal thing blinked menacingly at me, in all of it's shiny, spine-misshaping glory. Nothing like the red comfortable-ness that is the Animus 2.0 that Rebecca fashioned. Nobody was hooked up to the Animus at the moment, most likely because Sixteen had already died-taken his own life-whatever-and they haven't found Desmond yet. But Lucy wasn't the only person there. Vidic stood behind his desk, facing away from me and looking out that window that was flooded with so much blinding sunlight that you could never see more than the tops of a few buildings. Another white coffee mug was in his hand; seriously, did he go anywhere without one of those? As Lucy and I entered the Animus room, the doctor turned to inspect us.

"Ah," He said lightly, as if me punching him in the face had never happened. "Ms. Johnson. I assume you're rested up for today's activities. We have much to accomplish and so very little time to accomplish it in." He walked down the steps to the Animus and toward us. He shoes clacked obnoxiously on the hard metal floor, and if they were any louder I swear someone in Asia could hear him strutting around like some sixty-year-old chicken.

I scowled at the man. "What do you want from me, Vidic?"

An icy smile spread across Vidic's face, and he said the words that made my heart feel like it was going to slow to a halt. "Get in the Animus, Ms. Johnson."


	13. Abstergo: Back Sass

**Chapter 13**

**If you guys get me to 69 reviews I will personally dedicate an entire authors note to each one of you on every chapter. FOR INSTANCE: Say I get to 69 reviews on Chapter 15. And say 6 different people reviewed Chapter 15. Then the next six chapters (16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21) will all have an authors note dedicated to each one of those people. SO WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? **

**Anyway****, last chapter was epic, because I was at Tori's house and her stupid Wifi is nonexistent, so the first paragraph or so of this chapter was actually and originally part of chapter 12...confuzzling, I know.**

_**VERY VERY VERY IMPORTANT!**_** I CHANGED THE DATE ON ANNA'S SISTER'S WEDDING INVITATION, SO CHECK IT OUT OR YOU SHALL BE VERY CONFUSED! CHAPTER 9!**

**Hey, guys, little tidbit here. Ezio's gonna disappear for a few chapters, I know, don't kill me. He has to come back, though, so I have a plan. Just telling everyone so that you won't worry. Hang in there! :D**

**Please enjoy, I will try to make these chapters longer, but for now live by the Creed, my dears! **

**Song: Machine, Regina Spektor**

**"Everything's provided, consummate consumer. Part**

**of worldly taking, apart from worldly troubles.**

**Living in you pre-war apartment, soon to be you post-war apartment,**

**and you live in the future. And the future-it's here, it's bright,**

**it's now."**

My mouth fell open. "_What?_ There is no way I'm letting you dig through my head! What do you even want from me? I'm just an author living in Albuquerque. Just like Desmond is only a bartender! And Sixteen was another sad soul you kidnapped to get to . . . uh. . . whatever you're looking for." I carefully skidded around the main fact.

Vidic's cold smile turned into a sneer. "Just how much do you know, Ms. Johnson?" He said my name like it was a poisonous bug he had accidentally swallowed.

"I know enough to want to get the hell OUT of this place!" I fumed loudly. "What are you thinking? What could you possibly want from me? I have _nothing! _I don't even have enough money to pay for air conditioning!"

Vidic chuckled, a freezing, deadly laugh that made chills run up my spine. "We don't want your money, Ms. Johnson."

I stood there for a moment, my mouth slightly ajar, when a sudden and rather powerful feeling of hopelessness overwhelmed me. I might as well just do what they say. Ezio probably died and now Desmond won't exist. Who knows, maybe they'll even let me write my book from here.

**[...One Month Later...]**

The Animus really does hurt your back. Watching the game I always thought it was bad enough, but I think I'm getting arthritis. Or something, I'm not really sure.

The days have been going by in a blur. There has been no sign from Ezio, and Lucy has a stone cold attitude. Vidic checks in every now and then, but never lingers long, and never says why he really wants me here. Desmond hasn't arrived yet, and I've started to get worried. Any hope of escaping has basically vanished for me.

My ancestor, to my very great surprise, had been an Assassin. Her name had been Akilina. (Which, strangely enough, means "eagle-like.") She had lived in late 1820's Russia and had fought, disguised as a man, in the Russo-Turkish War. The last time I was in the Animus, Akilina had been laying siege to Shumla, an Ottoman citadel.

Lucy hasn't been much help. She doesn't talk to me very often, and when she does it's always a bit hesitant, probably because I creeped her out when I first arrived here. I don't know what day it is, and I keep worrying about Mary-Alice's wedding. She lives in San Francisco, so I need to reserve a plane ticket to go there. Wait, plane ticket_s_. Ezio has to come with unless . . .

A horrifying thought struck me. What if, by being captured by Abstergo, Ezio was sent back into the game? I couldn't bear to think about it; the very idea made my already cold feeling of hopelessness turn crippling.

I sat in the bedroom, staring at the ceiling, which is mostly what I did after every Animus session. Each time I got out I slept for a bit, but I always woke up, the sounds of guns and blades clashing shaking me awake in a cold sweat. The after-effects of being in that machine were horrible; more often than not I would see faded shadows of reds and blues, but nothing that could define any alliances. My hands sometimes shook, and my wrists always felt abnormally light without the weight of a hidden blade.

I tried turning on Eagle Vision, like Akilina could. Nothing turned up. Sighing, I squinted again, looking for the hidden bloodstains left by Sixteen that I knew were there. No dice. I flipped over in my bed, which was actually really comfortable. My PJ's had switched from an overly large Pink Floyd T-shirt and fuzzy rainbow pants to a boring white spaghetti strap top and black knee-length shorts. I didn't know where the Abstergo base of operations was, but it couldn't be anywhere further north of where I lived. It was still warm outside, because after I got out of the Animus I would always, without fail, go to the giant windows behind Vidic's desk and put my hands on the glass. This way I could tell if it was starting to get colder-which it wasn't.

I was shaken out of my thoughts by Lucy delivering my bi-daily meal. For breakfast, like always, a cup of coffee (with sugar and cream on the side) and a bagel. For lunch I got a bowl of brothy noodle soup, three apple slices, and a glass of water. Lucy set my food on the table next to my bed and left without a word. She seemed a little different today; a few strands of hair were making escape attempts from her tight bun, and the collar of her shirt wasn't quite as pristinely ironed as it usually was. I contemplated what could be wrong as I changed and ate. When I walked into the Animus room, still yawning, I got a sudden shock from two things. The first was that Vidic was here, which wasn't often. The bastard usually only popped in every week and a half, just to see if I was still alive, I guess. I took the idea to listen to conversations through the grate in the bathroom, but the exchanges between Lucy and Vidic were muffled and revealed little.

Pulling my hair into a ponytail, I shot a questioning look at Lucy, who did not see me, because she was too focused on the small computer screen attached to the Animus. I started towards the machine, ready for another cheery day of illegal torture, when my arms dropped to my sides in shock at the sight of the Animus.

Desmond was finally here.

I had never thought it would happen. My luck was ridiculous. Not much longer now, and Desmond would befriend Lucy, and she would break us both out of here!

The poor guy had been forced into the Animus, and I assumed that he was trying to get to the ninth Memory Sequence right away, because he was pale and shivering violently, sweat covering his face.

Some of my old self surged forward, like an agitated animal suddenly released from a cage. The old self that was watching movies with a trained Assassin, that threw a handful of french fries down the shirt of a killer, and had the balls to punch a Templar Master in the face. Throwing back my shoulders, I marched stright up to Vidic, clenching my fists.

"What the _hell _do you think you're doing?" I demanded furiously.

"We've got a problem." Lucy cut in urgently.

"Quite the question, Ms. Johnson." Vidic replied icily, ignoring Lucy. "I thought this was what you did every day."

"I can't anchor him to the memory, there's too much phsycological trauma, he's rejecting the treatment, retreating." Lucy continued hurriedly. Desmond shook even more violently.

Vidic snapped his head over to look down at Desmond. In a sharp contrast to his furious face, his voice was very calm. "Desmond, I need you to try and relax." Poor Des probably couldn't even hear him.

"Let me try and stabilize him." Lucy said quickly.

"Focus. Listen to the sound of my voice." OK, Vidic is officially creeping the crap out of me. "Recognize that what you're seeing isn't real. Just a picture of the past. I can't hurt you."

"Dammit." Lucy huffed. This must have been the first time I had ever heard her swear since I'd known her. "It isn't working."

"Give it a moment, Miss Stillman. The first time is never easy." I had a feeling he had completely forgotten our little argument.

"We're losing him!" Lucy sounded pretty freaked at this point.

"Enough, Miss Stillman!" Vidic's voice was sharper than a knife. I raised my eyebrows, but Lucy didn't seem deterred.

"I'm pulling him out," She said determinedly. "_Now._"

Vidic sighed, and I could tell he was holding back his annoyance. "All right, Desmond. We're going to try and bring you out now."

"You okay?" I heard Lucy's voice soft like a bell behind me, followed by a gasp, like someone was underwater for too long and surfaced suddenly. I knew that Desmond had just gotten out of the Animus's clutches. I walked to the wall by the bedroom door and sat against the cold metal. And in three . . . two . . . one . . .

"See? I told you he'd be fine." Vidic said coolly as Desmond gasped for breath. He sounded like he was suffocating.

"_Bastards."_ Desmond coughed out.

"Now, now, I just saved your life," Vidic said "kindly".

"Yeah, _saved _is one word for it," I grumbled to myself.

"_Saved my life?_" Desmond spouted incredulously. "You kidnapped me, strapped me into that . . . thing."

"Thank you!" I called across the room. "Kidnapping, people! This guy has it down!"

"Animus." Vidic ignored me, being the Grammar Nazi that he is. "It's an Animus."

"I don't even know you people." Desmond's voice had a frantic cut of hysteria in it, and I couldn't help but feel sorry for the newbie. "Why are you doing this to me?"

Vidic began pacing. "You have information we need, Mr. Miles." He responded lowly.

_"Information?" _On the letter 'a' Desmond's voice cracked. "I'm a bartender, for Christ's sakes! What do you want me to do teach you how to mix a martini?"

"We know who you are." Vidic growled threateningly. _"What _you are."

"Very dramatic, doctor!" I yelled over. "I would suggest a soundtrack, though!"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about." Desmond stuttered. I winced. This was not going well at all for the pathetic little assassin over there.

"Don't play coy with me, there isn't time. You're an _Assassin _and whether you realize it or not, you have something my employers want. Locked away in that head of yours."

"Do they want a punch to the face, because I think any one of us here could give them that, _right, _Vidic?" I teased. Walking on the razor's edge with Vidic was pretty fun.

"Quiet, Ms. Johnson!" The doctor snapped at me. I held up my hands in fake surrender, and gave Desmond a grin after Vidic turned his back.

"But I'm _not _an Assassin! . . . Not any more." Poor Desmond, with the broken home and troubled past.

"Yes, your file indicated as much." Vidic was now circling the Animus. "Something about . . . an escape. Most fortunate for us."

"What do you want from me?" Desmond snarled.

"Now _that,_" I pointed meaningfully at the former Assassin. "Is a very good question!"

"For you to do as you're told." Vidic replied cryptically. He spat out the word 'told' like it was something disgusting and strange he had found in his morning glass of milk. "The Animus wil allow us to locate what we need. Once we have it, you'll be free to go."

"Sarcastic comment unneeded," I cut in. "Because we all know _that's _never gonna happen."

"I am _not _going back in there." Desmond said, with a tone of pissed-off finality to his words.

"Then _we'll _induce a _coma _and _continue _our _work._" Vidic replied. "Then you'll be left to die . . ." He went on. "Truth be told, the only reason you're still _concious_ is because this approach saves us _time._"

"Used up all your italics yet, Doc?" I muttered.

There were a few tense seconds of silence before Desmond could think of something to say. "You're insane." He finally got out.

"Hey, Doc, I like my new roommate!" I yelled obnoxiously. "He knows what's what!"

Vidic shot me a glare so venomous for a second I thought I might have been bitten by a snake. An old, insane, bearded, evil-to-the-very-core-of-it's-dark-little-heart snake.

"So," Vidic turned back to the newcomer. "What'll it be, Mr. Miles? Live or die?" Utter silence for several seconds. Then, "Lie down."

Desmond looked so angry that he might have punched Vidic right in his already-crooked nose (courtesy of yours truely) had he not caught my eye. I slowly shook my head, and I hoped he got my message. _Don't fight. Just do what they say. _His sigh echoed across the room as Desmond twisted and lay back on the Animus.

"A wise choice." Vidic said, his voice the very incarnation of evil.

"Doc, I'm going to bed. Wake me up when it's time for more torture, okay?" I called as I got up and went into the bedroom. Nobody stopped me, or yelled at me for being a smart ass like they usually do. 'They' meaning 'Vidic'.

After the bedroom door closed behind me, I put my intertwined hands behind my head, the urge to punch something (preferably Vidic's face) washing over me. Spying the white plate my breakfast had come in on the table, I grabbed it and hurled it at the closest wall, making it shatter with a jarring crash. Without hesitation I walked into the bathroom and grabbed a towel and clean pair of pajamas. I threw them into the corner of the bathroom and flipped on the hot water. After a few minutes I stripped and jumped in, sighing as steam rolled up towards the ceiling and fogged the glass doors of the shower. After learning a few weeks ago from Lucy that there weren't any security cameras in the shower, I had taken every chance I could get to use up all of the hot water the Abstergo could supply.

Shutting off the water, I grabbed my towel and dried off as much as I could for now, then threw on my PJ's, deciding that if Vidic wanted to be a couch bag he could, but I was sleeping in.

Back in the bedroom, the shards of the white ceramic plate still laying on the floor, the deep scratch on the wall still very visible. Sighing, I brushed the pieces into my hand, leaving most of the smallest little chips on the floor for whoever the hell did the cleaning for this place. The white plate was startlingly similar to the one I had almost hit Ezio with over a month ago. My insides twisted at the thought of Ezio. Just thinking about what sort of fate that could have befallen him made my heart tighten with fear. I didn't know why I cared so much about what happened to him. Maybe it was because I'd never thought I would actually meet the Assassin, and now that I finally did, I didn't know how to take it. And only I would truly know why I had lashed out at him the first night he was in my house. Oh, Ezio, where have you gone?

Rubbing my forehead, I fell face-first on the bed, my arms and legs splayed out on the soft sheets. My wet hair fell over my ears, smelling like hospital soap. My neck started to hurt, so I shifted until my face was in one of the pillows. I yawned, suddenly very tired. Just as it became hard for me to keep my eyes open (and breathe, with my face in the pillow) I heard the door tweet and slide open. Desmond's shoes crunched on the remaining shards of plate, and judging by how loud it was and how it didn't even sound like he stopped, I could tell he was angry. His footsteps stopped.

"Is that guy _alwa_-" His angry voice halted. "Are you even awake?"

"No. I'm sleeping." I muffled through the pillow sarcastically.

". . .What's with that Vidic guy?"

"He's a douchebag. What else is there to know?"

Silence for about a minute, and I wondered if I shouldn't have asked that question. I pried my head out of the overly cushy pillow and flipped over into my back to look at Desmond.

The graphics in the game sucked. There he just looked normal, but this was awful. He looked drawn out a pale, dark bags under gold eyes that were so very similar to a certain Italian Assassin's. All in all, he looked as if someone had beat him up. And subjected him to forceful Animus-ing.

I winced in pity. "You look terrible." I stated.

"Gee, thanks." He said, his sarcasm almost bordering on cruelty. I had heard somewhere that there was a fine line between those two. He probably didn't mean anything by it, though. I hefted myself into a cross-legged position.

"It's okay, Desmond." I said sympathetically. "After a while, you don't get affected as much."

He looked at me suddenly. And I mean _really _looked at me, scanned me up and down and looked me right in the eye. At last he said, "How does everyone around here know my name?"

"Well, I think they would have to know your name if they wanted to kidnap you, right?" I said.

That slowed him. He opened his mouth, closed it, then spoke. "Yeah, well, how do you know my name?"

"I've been here for over a month. Things tend to slip." Well, it wasn't a complete lie. In all truth, no one had let anything slip. Seeing into someone's future was strange.

Desmond paused before walking over to sit on the edge of the bed a couple feet from me. "So . . . you've been here for a while, right?"

"Uh, yeah, I think I just established that fact."

"Okay. Where am I?"

I sighed. "You're in Abstergo's home base. Yes, yes, old chap, I know it's a pharmaceutical company. They are not good people. Oh, wait, except Lucy. You can definitely trust her."

Desmond blinked several times, as though trying to take it all in. "I can . . . trust Lucy?"

I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly. "Yeah, I know a lot. . . and I can't tell you all of it. Just . . . don't get on the wrong side of the doctor, and you'll be fine."

Desmond looked confused and jerked a thumb back a the door leading to the Animus room. "If I'm not supposed to piss of the old guy, then what was all that back sass?"

I smirked. "Like I said, I've been here a long time. I think Vidic is just waiting for me to crack and kill myself so he can move on to concentrating all of his evil Templar rage upon you." When I said 'evil Templar rage' I put on so much sarcasm the octave went down a register, and I was surprised when the words didn't visibly drop out of my mouth. That's too bad. I would have enjoyed pulling off a Sgt. Peppers, where I lit the end of and smoked the word 'Templar.'

Desmond looked like he _almost, maybe, just barely _smiled. I grinned and punched his shoulder playfully. "C'mon, champ, grin! Being kidnapped by an evil psycopath to be forced to learn how to kill people isn't so bad! The food is decent!"

Desmond looked surprised. "Seriously?" He asked.

I laughed, the first true laugh in over a month. "No, not seriously. It sucks."


	14. Abstergo: A Visitor

**Chapter 14**

**Well, as promised, I'm going to start giving out individual kudos in the order of reviews on Chapter 13. First up is Pandrawolf. Thank you so much for reviewing, Pandrawolf! I loved your first review on my story where you said that you had sat there reading my entire story. That one review really helped kick-start my writing, because I just knew more people would start reading! Love you, dear! :D**

**Okay, next chapter is platinumblind, and on deck is flyingcrispi.**

**BACK TO THE IMPORTANT STUFF! I've been getting a lot of "what's gonna happen next, AF?" and "hooray Desmonds here now where the fuck is Ezio, AF?" Well, to answer your questions, I don't know. I have a plan that involves a whole lot of that-should-not-be-possible kind of scenes, but hopefully you guys will stick with me. ****Side note: ****This is a ROMANCE, and I originally planned for it just to be kind of a five-chapter deal, but I now realize that that isn't possible for me. SO! Sneak peek, you say? Okay. Two words: ****LOVE. TRIANGLE. ;D**

**Song: Better, Regina Spektor**

**"...If I kiss you where it's sore**

**will you feel better, better, better?**

**Will you feel anything at all?"**

**P.S. Song #2: Dmitri Shostakovich - Waltz No. 2**

**(Listen to this one when she's in the Animus, it's an instrumental.)**

My time at Abstergo started to get better with Desmond there. He was actually pretty funny, despite winning the 'Blandest Sentient Being in the Universe' contest, according to Ben "Yahtzee" Croshaw. He had a bit of a-well, actually, a VERY sarcastic sense of humor. At one point things got very awkward, because the stupid Templars decided that they didn't want to bother giving us bunk beds, or even just a few extra blankets so I could sleep on the floor. Oh, no, now I had to share my big comfy bed with Desmond. Insert swear word of your choice here.

**[...One Week Later...]**

"Desmond, if you don't give me that soup, I swear to _God _I am going to rip out your esophagus a skip rope with it." I stood with my arms crossed, eyes narrrowed, one finger pointed threateningly at Desmond, who was holding up my bowl of noodle soup precariously high above his head with _one hand, _the other hand stretched out in front of him to ward me away. This was the end of rope for me. Bribery, death threats, even offering to take over a day of Animus sessions for him, and no result. My food was still just out of my reach.

"Okay, I don't even care anymore." I sighed and turned as if I were about to walk away. Desmond chuckled, and I could almost _hear _him bring the soup down to eye level. On that note I whirled around and tackled him visiously around the stomach, slamming him down onto the bed. A magnificent crash resounded through the bedroom as the soup bowl shattered. Grinning wildly, I shoved him down, screaming, "And THAT'S why you don't deny me FOOD! Now we can BOTH go hungry!"

Desmond held up his hands in surrender, but I could see him laughing. We sat there for a moment, both of cracking up, when I heard the door open. Glancing up, I saw that Lucy was in the room, looking rather frazzled. It looked like she had heard the bowl shatter and me scream and had come to see what it was all about. She took one look at the noodles all over the floor, the white bowl shards, Desmond flat on his back, my hands on his chest with my red-tipped hair falling all over the place, and gave a little laugh. I was surprised. I had thought that Lucy would be all over us for smashing yet _another _one of Abstergo's "fine china".

"You guys. . ." She shook her head. With a final grin, she pointed at the pile of ceramic. "You guys are cleaning it up this time." I smiled and fell off the bed, stood up, grabbed Desmond's hand, and pulled him oof the bed and made him fall on the floor with a loud thump. He gave me an are-you-serious look before I grinned again and walked over to the scene of the crime. As I began picking up the sharp pieces, I heard Desmond get up behind me, and a couple seconds later he was kneeling next to me, sweeping tiny razor shards into the palm of his hand.

"I think you caused some internal hemorrhaging, you know." He accused. "I'm going to need a doctor."

"Oh stop whining." I walked to a small white trashcan and banished the pieces in my hand. "Besides, if you need a doctor, I'm sure Vidic can nurse you back to health."

The expression on his face was priceless. I busted up laughing, but quickly got a hold of myself. Stretching, I said, "You know, we need to go back into the Animus soon. Who's turn is it?"

Desmond groaned in mock exasperation and replied, "I think yours. Who was your ancestor, anyway?"

I waved a hand flippantly. "Eh. Some chick in 1820's Russia. Not as cool as Altair or Ezio. The further back in time the ancestor lived, the more interesting."

Desmond looked confused. "Who's Ezio?"

My face could not have looked guiltier. The expression OH SHIT was written all over my features. What do I do? Do I tell him about the fact that he's fictional charater, or do I lie to the only friend I've made in this place? After several seconds of being extremely torn, I finally rushed out, "I can't tell you."

Desmond narrowed his eyes. "Why not? You know what, nevermind. Just more damn secrets in this place." He started angrily towards the door, and I gave out a cry of frustration. Just as Desmond reached the door, I lunged out and grabbed his arm.

"Stop, Desmond. Jesus." I sighed heavily. "Let me explain."

[...]

It had only taken a few minutes for me to explain, in a very low whisper, to Desmond everything. And I mean _everything. _He was a fictional character in a video game in a reality that was Venn-diagramming with mine. I told him about Ezio, but refrained from talking about the Apple of Eden. I was already pushing my luck, no need to add the apocolypse into that equation. Desmond was quiet for the entire time, looking paler and paler the longer I spoke. At last I fell silent, and Desmond shook his head disbelievingly.

"I'm . . . not real?" He finally asked hoarsely. I didn't know what to tell him. It hurt my heart, my very soul, to have to look Desmond in the eyes and say that he never existed. I nodded my head, taking a shaky breath. Desmond bowed his head, looking worse than when I had first seen him after his first forced Animus session a week ago.

"Hey Desmond, if it's any consolation, this means Abstergo doesn't technically doesn't exist either." I put my left hand on his shoulder, and he put his own on top of mine. His hand was warm and shaking slightly. "I'm going to fix this." I told him determinedly. "I'm going to get everything back to normal. You can live your life."

"That's not it, Anna!" Desmond's voice cracked dramatically. "If you get this fixed, if you get me back to my . . . reality, how am I supposed to go on living knowing I'm not real?"

I pressed my lips together, because I didn't have an answer for him.

The door to the bedroom slid open with its signature electronic beep, and Vidic strutted in, white coffee mug in hand. "Ready to go, Mr. Miles? Much to do today!" The creep was in a particularily chipper mood today. It made me angry.

"Could you get off his case for ten seconds, Doc? Christ, you'd think we were in an interrogation room." Vidic raised an eyebrow dangerously at me. "Five minutes." It wasn't a question. Vidic, eyebrow practically grazing his receding hairline, turned and walked back into the Animus room.

I let out a humorless laugh. "You were wrong. It wasn't my turn." I said quietly. I got up from the edge of the bed and walked in front of Desmond and crouched down so I was at eye level with him. I grabbed him hand with both of mine. "You're fine, Desmond." I murmured. "Take a shower, get some sleep. I'll get your session for you today." Desmond turned his head away, and I gently put my hand on the side of his face. I moved over to meet his eyes, and for a moment he looked intensely sad. Giving him one last smile, I got up and walked over to the door, already preparing an argument filled with smart ass comments and excuses as to why Desmond wasn't here and I was.

Just before I reached door, however, I heard the whoosh of bed sheets, and just as I was about to turn around to ask Desmond what the _hell _he was doing, I felt his hand grab my wrist and pull me back into something warm and soft; the fabric of Desmond's sweatshirt, and it was only then that I realized he was hugging me. I stiffened, the hug bringing back painful memories of Ezio. All the same, I carefully put my arms around his neck, and Desmond's hands wrapped tighter around my waist. I pulled back slightly, knowing Vidic was going to come back any second. I looked away, and this time it was Desmond's hand on my cheek. He directed my face so I was looking up at him, and I opened my mouth to tell him that Vidic was going to be seriously pissed off, when I realized just how close were. His face was so close to mine that I could count his individual eyelashes. Tawny eyes pierced into me, and I felt as though my soul were being scanned. I felt our noses brush, and then our lips, light as a butterfly's wing, and in that split second everything came rushing back to me; the memory of dragging my friends to the movies with Ezio, of throwing flaming handfuls of frech fries in each other's faces, and finally to my sympathy hug with Ezio. All the memories were painfully familiar, and I was brought rushing back into the present.

I gently but sternly pushed Desmond away from me. There was a carefully hidden but all-too-existent flash of hurt in his eyes, and I bowed my head, suddenly ashamed. "It's been five minutes." I whispered, and walked out into the Animus room, leaving a confused Desmond behind.

{...}

_Mournful music resounded dreamily throughout the hall. Dmitri Shostakovich, I recognized. Waltz number two. My shoes clicked softly against the polished floor of the ballroom. Couples danced in perfect synchronization on the dance floor, whirls of women's dresses flashing amongst the crowd like brightly colored flowers. My own was light green, adorned with pearls, which matched nicely with my curly, blond hair bordering on silvery white. Though underneath were trousers, for I needed to have freedom of movement. I chatted mindlessly with strangers, ever so subtly making my way to the far end of the hall. The room darkened, and I spied a burst of gold. I anxiously fingered the hidden hilt of a dagger. My target remained oblivious, but I had no trouble noticing him. He was large, severly overweight, with a great booming laugh that echoed through the entire ballroom. _

_The music began to reach the climax. I took this to be my sign, and moved slowly into a crowd of people surrounding my target, so his back was to me. After several minutes, he fell silent, and I seized the opporatunity. Darting forward, I ripped the dagger from it's hidden sheath and sank it down to the hilt in my target's back, directly into his heart. He crumpled, and screams instantly erupted around me. With much effort, I carefully laid him down on the floor, letting my hand glid over his face, his droopy eyes sliding closed._

_"__Покойся с миром.__" I whispered, my voice high and bell-like. And then I began to run._

{...}

I sat up, rubbing my face with the palms of my hands. That was too weird. Akilina was a great Assassin, but did she have to pick a _dance? _Out of everywhere she could have followed that guy to . . . More painful memories of Ezio resurfaced. Our time together had been so brief, sometimes I wondered if I hadn't dreamt it all up. My friends probably thought I was crazy now, talking to people that never existed.

[...]

My nightmare reappeared. The same one I had had almost two months ago, except this time, Ezio did not transform into a hideous beast. As he twirled me back in from an epic spin, I found myself whirling away into empty air, and when I stopped, I was alone in the dream.

The change of my dream did nothing to ease the terror. Over the course of the days following Akilina's assassination at the ball, I would wake up screaming, the total darkness of my dream turning my blood to ice. Desmond was forced to comfort me until I went back to sleep, which was not often.

It was one particularily restless night. I decided not to go to sleep in the first place, because my Animus session had been esspecially rough, and I certainly didn't need the extra stress of the nightmare. I sat staring at the ceiling, willing myself to turn eagle vision on. A flash of something caught my attention, but I assumed that it must just be my weak attempts of the vision.

Sighing, I flipped to my left side, where I could see the door leading to the Animus room, and Desmond's sleeping form. I amused myself for a few minutes watching his chest steadily rise up and down, before another flicker of something near the doorway drew my gaze yet again. I instantly became suspicious, my experiences with Akilina telling me to be on the lookout. After that, I grew steadily more restless. I twisted and turned in my bed, but nothing worked to make me more comfortable. Finally, I just got out of bed entirely, spending my time pacing the length of the room. After about twenty minutes of nonstop, wear-through-the-floorboards pacing, I walked over to the door leading to the Animus room. I poked the metal of the door experimentally, knowing it would be locked.

The door slid open. I could only stare, knowing that it must have been Lucy, but couldn't even begin to fathom how she knew I was out of bed. I took the chance as a stroke of good faith, and with only a second's hesitation, slipped through the door into the Animus room. It was absolutely pitch black. I couldn't see my own feet, and as I made my way to the center of the room, tripped several times. At long last I got to the Animus and sat down, but didn't enter. Even if I tried to, there was no one manning the computer, so it would be pointless and dangerous to try.

I kicked my feet back and forth, sitting on the Animus, for what felt like hours, though I knew it could have been only about thirty minutes. I wondered who would have wanted me to go here. I was starting to get creeped out, and the darkness felt like it was growing, swallowing me whole, and it was my nightmare come to life. As I hopped down from the Animus and started to hurry my way to the door leading to the bedroom, I heard a soft, barely audible scrape behind me. With a gasp, I whirled around, and in the shadows I spotted a gleam of white.

"Who are you? Some Abstergo agent sent to kill me in my sleep? Go ahead, I'd like to see you try and take me down without a kick to the-" I was interrupted when the figure darted forward suddenly, strong arms wrapping harshly around my shoulders. I kicked and struggled, attempting to get out of my captor's grasp but it was no use; whoever had me was very strong. I threw my head back and looked up, at least wanting to see the coward's face before he killed me.

What I saw stunned me to the core. Too overcome with anything but suprise, I stopped struggling and said a single incredulous word. _"Ezio?" _


	15. Abstergo: Check Mate

**Chapter 15**

**Wow. So many reviews...anyway, kudos in this chapter goes to platinumblind. Oh, the wonderful things I could say about you, amico! Your epic reviews cheer me up to no end, and I could listen to the compliments and out-loud wonderings for an entire day. Please stay with me, platinumblind, because you've officially made the top three in my list of regular reviewers! LOVE YOU! :D**

**OKAY, BACK TO THE STORY STUFF! ****Yet more reviews saying stuff like "What now that Ezio is back, AF?" Well, all your questions shall be answered in this chapter, and next. Please enjoy, and don't forget to review! :)**

**Song: Chasing Pirates, Norah Jones**

"**And I try not to dream up impossible schemes **

**That swim around, wanna drown me insane.**

**And I don't know how to slow it down,**

**Oh my mind's racing from chasing pirates . . ."**

"Ezio, how the _heck _did you get into a building more heavily guarded than the White House?" I hissed disbelievingly. I tried to stay quiet and collected, but the truth was that I was so ridiculously happy to see Ezio that I could barely form coherent thought.

I was also absolutely furious. Furious enough to slap him across the face, which he made no effort to stop. The sound of skin-on-skin contact echoed throughout the empty Animus room.

_"How could you just leave me?" _I growled angrily. "I have been held captive here for two whole months. What the hell took you so long, Ezio?"

Ezio put on a pained face, and it was hard to tell in the darkness, but I thought that he looked strained, with heavy dark bags under his bloodshot eyes; I could very faintly see a red mark in the shape of my hand on his left cheek. I almost felt bad, but then I remembered that he had abandoned me in the arms of the enemy for two months and I felt angry all over again.

"I was . . . sidetracked." Ezio finally got out. "There were complications, after you were taken by those . . . _stronzi_." He spat out the last word like it was something vile. "But," He continued, looking slightly more cheery. "I have a way out. Your _amico, _Leah, has brought me here in that contraption on wheels. She and the one with blond hair are waiting downstairs." Ezio seemed very excited about this accomplishment. There was a huge grin across his face, and one of his arms was still on my shoulder. I smiled happily. I knew it, I just knew that Ezio and my friends wouldn't leave me here to die! Jumping forward, I latched my arms around Ezio's neck and pushed my face into the soft fabric of his Assassin uniform. It smelled like him, like exercise and dusty sun and something warm and rouge-ish that the English language doesn't have a word for. Warm arms encircled my waist, and suddenly we were back in my kitchen, my sister's wedding invitation in my hand, mourning over the loss of Ezio's family. Such a mixture of emotions churned about in my chest; sadness, relief, affection, rage, even fear. Through all of it my heart beat an uneven tattoo against the inside of my ribcage. I turned my head to the side, and the tip of my nose met the feverish skin of Ezio's neck. My face felt a little warm, so to hide my embarrasment I nuzzled my face into the crook of Ezio's shoulder.

My thoughts were shattered apart by a sharp voice. "What the _hell_?" I jumped and whipped around, finding that the door to the bedroom had opened and I hadn't even noticed. Crap.

Desmond was awake.

Heat crept up my neck as I realized what a compromising position I had just been caught in. Desmond stalked towards us, a very ticked off look on his face. I tried to step away from Ezio, but he deliberately slid an arm around my waist and yanked me so I was practically smushed into him. I could see from Desmond's face that this just annoyed him even further, but I didn't know why. There had never been anything official or even very serious between us . . . actually, as far as I knew, there hadn't been anything . . . right?

"Would someone please explain to me what the _fuck _is going on?" Desmond sounded extremely angry. Clearing my throat, I disentangled myself from Ezio's arm and stepped forward to address Desmond.

"Um, Desmond . . . This is, er," I winced awkwardly, knowing that the reaction to this wasn't going to be a fun one. "This is Ezio. Your ancestor."

Desmond just looked shocked. He pointed accusingly at the Assassin. _"This _is Ezio? _This _is . . ." He trailed off, looking at a loss for words. one of his hands drifted to the small scar on his lip, identical to the one Ezio had. "What, are you two dating now?" There was unbridled venom in his voice, and I cringed at the harshness of it. His tone felt like a punch to the gut. I opened my mouth to answer when, to my great suprise, Ezio answered for me.

"If she is yours, _amico, _I am not one to steal others' women." Ezio said in his self-defense, though I would bet the income of my next book on the fact that he had stolen plenty of women from married men.

Desmond's face paled, then flushed. "Sh-she isn't mine." He coughed out finally. I really couldn't believe this was actually happening. They were _Assasssins, _for Christ's sake! Trained killers, meant to cut themselves off from emotion, and they were fighting over a _woman? _But what really baked the cake was that that woman was me.

Ezio raised an eyebrow oh-so-slightly, and I got a deep-rooted feeling that whatever the answer to Desmond's statement was, it wasn't going to be good for all involved. I vaguely noticed that Ezio's arm had slinked back around my waist. "She is not yours, then? So you would not mind if I did . . . this?"

And before I could react to anything, I felt Ezio's arm yank me towards him, and his lips pressed against mine so hard I thought he was going to bruise my mouth. Another arm joined the other around my waist, and I automatically wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer to me. His lips were soft, softer than I would have thought possible from an Assassin. I felt a scratchy bit of stubble rub my chin, and he tilted his head slightly to deepen the kiss. Ezio pushed his lips harder against mine, and I drew back quickly, as I was starting to run out of air. Turning my head to the side, I saw that Desmond was gone.

I leapt away from Ezio, utterly livid. "You-you-you did that on purpose!" I said as loudly as I dared. "You _knew _he would walk away! You narcissistic, stuck-up, arrogant bastard! Why did you do that? Desmond is my friend!"

Ezio gave me a smile that looked like a mix between mischief and, to my confusion, sadness. "Judging from his reaction, _bella, _that is not what he thinks."

I was speechless. My eyes began to burn, and too angry to say anything, I sprinted away to the bedroom. The door slid open, and I poked my head in gently, not being able to see much of anything due to the complete darkness. Putting my hand on the doorframe, I whispered softly to the darkness, "Desmond? Desmond, I didn't know-" I gasped as two golden eyes pierced the darkness, and I knew that Desmond was using eagle vision. For a moment I wondered why he would be doing that, and two theories hit me, one of them horrifying. The first was that eagle vision gives us a slight amount of light, and my other theory was that he was checking my color to see if I was still the light blue of an ally. Praying with all my heart that it wasn't the latter, I stepped into the room and held my hand out to Desmond.

"Desmond, I didn't know that you . . ." I trailed off, now slightly too embarrassed to continue. I shook my head and grabbed at the red ends of my hair. "This isn't how it was supposed to go . . ." I muttered. "I'm changing everything." Without looking back at Desmond, I turned and walked back into the Animus room. Ezio was leaning against the Animus, observing the shiny metal by rubbing his finger along the lights running down the middle.

"Ezio." I said.

"_Si, bella?_" He asked without turning around.

I took a deep breath. _Just get it out, Anna._ "Ezio, I can't come with you right now. There are things I need to fix here," As Ezio whipped around, about to interrupt, I added quickly, "and it's not your fault. Listen . . . I know what I need to get done." I paused, thinking. How long do I need? How long is safe? Finally I made a decision. Lowering my voice, I moved closer to the confused Assassin. "Listen carefully, Ezio. In thirty days' time, come back here, just as you did today, with Leah driving. I'll be waiting. No matter what you think is right, don't come earlier, and don't be late. And no matter what, above all else, _do not _get caught. I don't care if you have to . . . if you have to kill yourself to do it, just please, _please _be careful." I stepped forward, about to hug him, but I stopped at the last second. I held out my hand for Ezio to shake and felt slightly foolish, just sitting here with my hand held out. Grabbing Ezio hand, I slapped in into my own and the shook his hand with both of mine. I began to draw back, but Ezio held tight to my hand. He brought it up to his mouth and I felt his lips brush across my knuckles as soft as a rose petal, and my cheeks began to warm. In a blur, Ezio darted forward so he was right next to me, and his breath tickled the side of my neck.

"Thirty days." He whispered softly to me, and he turned on his heel and instead of walking to the main door, he went to the large windows. Ezio looked down as if to check for something, and with one last glance back at me, did a mighty leap of faith out the open glass. I rushed over, not to check if he was okay, (because somehow, I knew he was just fine) but to close the open window before anyone noticed it was open and letting out all the air conditioning; Just having the window open that long made me pant and feel like I was drinking the air instead of breathing it.

Shoving my hands into the pockets of my pajama shorts, I began making my way half-blindly back to the bedroom, my thoughts wandering to Ezio, then to Desmond, then to Lucy and how in the world she could know so much, and finally to rest on the strange occurrences with the Animus and Assassin's Creed. Making a detour to the bedroom, I plopped myself down on the Animus, thinking about everything. What was going on? Why did Ezio come back to get me? Why did he come out of the game at all? How the hell was the entire Abstergo Industries here? What was wrong with Desmond? And why in the world did Abstergo even want me, if Akilina hasn't found anything of importance other than a few corrupt government officials? In my deep contemplation, I tried to think of it with the author side of my mind. First Ezio came out. Then Abstergo. And then . . . it hit me like a slap to the face.

The heat stroke we were having wasn't going to end. The weather isn't going to get cooler as summer waned, and I was pretty sure most of the world was experiencing the same phenomenon. A chill ran up my spine. I was dragging more stuff out of the game. Larger stuff. But if I was starting to affect the very weather, than what was going to come out next? Wait . . . the weather wasn't this hot in Italy. And if things were getting bigger . . . I realized what was going to come out of the Animus next at the very moment that a huge shockwave rattled my eardrums, and I felt plaster raining from the ceiling like white rain. At the same time that I felt the Animus jolt underneath me like it was an angry animal, and a blinding burst of white light overwhelmed my vision. I heard Desmond scream; only I heard my name in the mix, and I heard the alarms of Abstergo ringing off the clock. Something blunt struck the back of my head, and darkness invaded my eyes as I faded to unconsciousness.

**End of Part I**


	16. The Pieces Are Set

**Part II**

**Chapter 16**

**Hey, everyone! Despite popular demand, I'm not dead. **** But the last chapter made me very happy, and I hope that my hits stay this high all the time! Let's make to 100 reviews, people!**

**Special thanks this chapter to flyingcrispi. It's always great to see new reviewers, and even better to see new reviewers that stay loyal. Love you, hope you don't abandon me, because I know you love me too! :D Ok, I'm getting tired of these already, so Evenelle is gonna be the last one. And maybe a few choice others. Sorry, everyone who reviewed Chapter 13.**

**TO THEE STOREE! ****Okay, I know the ending of ****Part I**** must have confuzzled a lot of people (like Tori, who was screaming in my ear "I DON'T GET IT!" for five minutes afterwards) because it didn't make a lot of sense, but please, my love, give me some credit here! I know what I'm doing! Do you doubt my epic, unrivaled, absolutely LIKE A GOD writing talents? Of course not! (Jk, I suck). This chapter will be written by Day Of Separation units (DOS). **** Enjoy!**

**Song: Don't Let Me Get Me, P!nk**

"**So doctor, doctor, won't you prescribe me something?**

**A day in the life of someone else, 'cause I'm a hazard to myself!"**

**[1st DOS]**

The back of my head was throbbing. I tried to move my arms, and found that they were tied behind my back. The bonds were thin strands of wire that cut into my wrists as I moved around a bit. A warm trickled raced down my wrist, and I winced when I realized I was bleeding from where I had pressed against the bands too hard. Sharp knives of pain crept up my arms, and I grunted and pulled my wrists back together as far as I could without turning them into a single mushy limb. After gaining a bit more consciousness, I identified my surroundings to be the bedroom of Abstergo, and I had barely enough time to recognize that I was lying on my side with my feet tied that the door slid open and in walked an oddly familiar woman. She was blond, but not in the same pleasant straw/woven gold way that Lucy was. It was more of a shade of silver, with flickers of light bronze in the right light. It was very unique and beautiful, and I felt a stab of jealousy that my hair was such a stupid milk chocolate color, and a tickling sense of recognition, as if I had seen this woman somewhere before. Her soft features, her piercing, lightning blue eyes, even the light, fair color of her skin seemed vaguely old hat. When she spoke, the feeling was suddenly realized.

"So . . . you are awake at last." She sniffed, her voice high and clear, like a bell, with a strong accent. And I recognized her at last, and why she had seemed so hauntingly familiar to me at first. It was because I really _had _seen her—many, many times, in fact. Over the past two months, I had seen her every time I went in the Animus.

My jaw very literally dropped. I knew what was supposed to come out of the Animus, but this . . . this was completely unexpected. There had been a nagging suspicion that others could come out of—well, first off, how were they coming through the Animus at all? I had thought that it was restricted to simply the game Assassin's Creed, and then very strictly to my PlayStation, but that wouldn't explain the weather . . .

I gasped as I twitched too violently and I felt the wire cut deeper into my wrists. Turning to see as much of Akilina as I could, I asked frantically, "Is anyone else here with you? Akilina, is there_ anyone else here?" _Intense suspicion instantly flared like icy fire in her eyes, and before I knew what the hell was happening, cold metal was pressed tightly to my throat, perfectly placed at my jugular. One wrong word and I was done for.

"Do not speak, girl." Akilina hissed to me. "You will not speak." I clamped my mouth shut, at the same time realizing that something about her way of speaking was slightly off-kilter. It took me several moments to come to the not-entirely-confidant conclusion that she hadn't understood me, because she didn't have an Earth. **(Thought I'd forgotten about those, had you? ;D) **My Russian ancestor straightened and began moving towards the door. Racking my brain, I picked my words carefully now.

"Слушай меня. Мне нужно чтобы ты доверяешь мне." Akilina whirled around to face me, and I was just as surprised as she looked. It shocked me that I had just spoken fluent Russian, but I supposed that the bleeding effect didn't work solely on Desmond and his ancestors. Her gaze felt like being searched by blue lightning bolts.

"Пожалуйста, Акилина." I pleaded. "Я все знаю. О вы, братство, все. Но то, что мне нужно знать теперь: _ты одна_?" Akilina's eyes narrowed and once again a knife was pressed against my throat.

"What do you know of the Brotherhood?" She asked viciously. Swallowing hard, I tried to think of something fast.

"I-I'm not a Templar, Akilina." I stuttered out in Russian.

"Then what are you?" She retaliated instantly. My heart was threatening to explode right out of chest and run away, laughing at my misfortune.

"I'm . . . an ally." I winced, still speaking Russian. I could tell Akilina still didn't really believe me, so I added quickly, "I can prove that I know you. When you were twenty years old you fell in love with a fellow Assassin." The end of this wasn't going to be pretty, but it was the strongest, most emotional memory of hers that I could remember off the top of my head. The end result was going to be made even more grisly because I mentioned the oh-so-secret order of Assassins, pretty much as blatantly as you could get. "But when you went on a mission to Moscow, he was killed while you were gone. You covered it up for three years, but you never got over his loss, which is why you still wear that blue crystal egg around your neck," By now my voice had dropped down to a whisper; I had taken no pleasure in watching the memories of the strongest woman I had ever seen break down in screaming tears, lashing out at any and all who came to comfort her. "Because he gave it to you before you left for the city." I finished. My eyes were squeezed shut, preparing for the quick slice to the throat that I thought must be inevitable. The blade moved—but it was pulling away from my neck, not cutting it open like a common watermelon. I opened my eyes in surprise, thinking that I would be bleeding all over Abstergo by now. When I saw Akilina's face, I could tell she still didn't trust me. Perhaps her suspicion level had gone down somewhat, but the trust issues were very much present. Her gaze was still just as scarily piercing, but something looked like it had cracked underneath the frozen sheet of blue ice. Like the memory of her lost love was some disgusting sea creature that had broken through her tough exterior and was now wreaking havoc on her emotions. Or something, I'm not a psychologist.

After a long silence, Akilina finally spoke. "There is one other with me. A man. I do not speak his tongue, but he seems to belong to the Brotherhood." By now my heart was skipping so many beats you would have thought it was some mildly retarded raccoon banging on timpani drums.

"Akilina . . ." I said slowly, in Russian. In fact, from now on when I talk to her let's just assume that it's in Russian**, okay? **"I need to speak to him. Can you go get him for me? Or untie me?" Suspicion flashes across my ancestor's face again, and I wondered what I could possibly say that _didn't _make people suspicious of me. From the expression on Akilina's face, however, I could tell the odds were not in my favor. "Please, it's very important. You can tie me back up after, if it makes you happy, okay?"

"Very well." Akilina responded at length. In two swift movements, the knife that had been previously pressed against my jugular was slicing apart the thin wire that bound me. I sighed and rubbed the shallow cuts that made pencil-thin lines around my wrists and ankles. The areas were smeared with blood—not much, granted, but it still freaked me a little bit. My white blouse was streaked with red marks where I had pushed my arms against my back, and a thin layer of grime covered me from head to toe. The sight of which brought back the memory of me being knocked out, and renewed fear invaded me when I remembered what could have caused the blast that came from the Animus. If Abstergo got it . . . I couldn't stand the thought of Templars finding it.

Akilina left through the door to the Animus room, presumably to go find Desmond, who I was positive was the man here with Akilina. I hoped he wasn't hurt. There was no telling what sort of damaged could be caused by—

My thoughts were interrupted when the door opened and Akilina walked in, announcing none-too-happily that I had retrieved the man for me. The man walked in after her, and I felt my insides freeze.

"You aren't supposed to be here!" I exclaimed, panic seizing me. _"You aren't supposed to be here!" _My voice had risen to a scream. "When did you get here? Did you come here with her?" I pointed at Akilina, still talking to the man in the doorway, who was giving me look of slight confusion and some serious contempt. "You need to leave. You need to leave _now._" Now Akilina was looking just as confused as the other.

"Why must he leave?" She asked, sounding superior as always, though I could guess well enough that she probably wasn't feeling too high-and-mighty right now.

I clenched my hands into fists, frustration practically making my vision red. "Haven't I made that clear enough?" I spouted. "Because he ISN'T SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!"

"I do not see why you should decide where I am." The first words that I had heard out of him just made me more frustrated. I gritted my teeth together. He wasn't going to leave, and I need to get Ezio, Desmond, Lucy, Vidic, Abstergo fudging Industries, Akilina, him, and the effing _weather _back into the game and, in Akilina's case, the Animus. And the thing that had caused the explosion, that needed to go too. Sighing, I rubbed my temples with my hands, fresh pain surging forward from my wrists, which had new trickles of blood tip toeing their way down my forearm. I furiously rubbed it away on my shirt, leaving further streaks of red.

"Just . . ." Questions. I needed questions answered, and I couldn't do that if my 19th century ancestor was breathing down my neck. "Akilina, could you go outside and wait for . . . an hour? I need to talk to Altaïr alone."


	17. Pawn's Move

**Chapter 17**

**Dear MaryandMerlin,**

**I love you, and that's that. Because you leave long reviews. So to reiterate, I love you.**

**Most sincerely, **

**AF**

**P.s. Holy crap, Anna Cahil, did you read every chapter? Not that it's not good…;) Love you, Clumsy Assassin! About time you reviewed!**

**P.p.s. Yay! Shelly's back! Happy to have ya back! I was grinning at my computer screen for five minutes rereading your reviews…I think you're my only reviewer who uses direct quotes from my chapters! I love it. Thank youuu! :D**

**Song: Marchin' On, OneRepublic**

"**There's so many wars we've fought; there's so many things I'm not,**

**But with what we have, I promise that **

**We're marchin' on, we're marchin on."**

**[DOS 1]**

My ankles stung where they rubbed against the dusty blankets. Every time I tried to pick grit out of the cuts, it just seared like bloody hell and I couldn't move my leg for a couple minutes. Altaïr gave me several strange looks, but he mostly just kept on his usual mask of contempt and/or indifference. After forty-five minutes of my unending interrogation, I was seriously considering murdering someone for a cup of coffee. Or some McDonalds. Or a bowl of pasta. And cream scones with raspberry jam from that vegetarian place down the street from my house. Actually, right now I would probably go as far as to make an attempt on Altaïr's life. Key word in that phrase: attempt. Even that has to earn me at the very least a whole platter of those scones.

My explanations were forced to be very simple. Since I had assumed that Altaïr knew a moderate amount of English, that's what I spoke. Not like I could speak anything else. Desmond was the one who could speak Arabic and Italian. I didn't know how much Altaïr was really grasping, but his reactions didn't vary much. When I told him that he was about nine hundred years in the future, I was rewarded with him raising his eyebrows slightly. Wow. Blew me away right there.

The subject wandered to Desmond and Ezio. I didn't know how much to tell him, but after a little bit of maneuvering, I wrung the truth from him, and it horrified me. Lucy, Desmond and Vidic were all here. They were tied up in the conference room with the same thin, razor sharp wire that I had been. I had no idea where the two Assassins had found that amount of the evil stuff, but I supposed it must be from all the rubble that had been caused by . . . _that thing _coming out of the Animus with Akilina and Altaïr.

At hearing this extremely terrifying fact, I jumped up and bolted out the door to the Animus room so suddenly that Altaïr couldn't stop me in time. Knowing him, however, he would be right on my tail, so I hustled my little blood-stained booty over to the giant rectangular window looking into the conference room. And there, true to Altaïr's word, were Lucy, Desmond, and Vidic, tied up in their own stiff metal chairs, back to back. Desmond was carefully (so as not to sever his arms at the wrists) trying to maneuver his way out of that godforsaken wire, while Lucy looked like she was fading in and out of consciousness. Vidic seemed to be yelling at Desmond, but, my luck being the absolute _shit _that it is, he looked up right as I popped in front of the glass. I couldn't hear much more than muffles, but I could definitely make out the words, 'You have explaining to do.' My blood ran cold at the thought of what was going to happen when they got out of there. Vidic was probably going to cut my head off and hang it above his mantelpiece for a decoration, and then he would grab that _thing _and show it off just to rub it in my face that he has th—

My musings were interrupted when I was grabbed by my (out of _all places_) wrists and shoved against the metal wall next to the window, and I cried out when pain lanced through my arms like needles. White cloth brushed against my cheek, and I realized that Altaïr had my right arm twisted around my back so tightly that I thought the thing was going to pop out of its socket.

Groaning in pain, I twisted halfway around to yell at Altaïr. "Could you please get off me, you incredible douchebag?" Wiggling a bit, I managed to look all the way over my shoulder, and almost had a small heart attack when I saw Altaïr's face literally _centimeters _away from my own. I gave a small noise of surprise and pushed my face as far away from his as I could, which happened to be right into the wall.

"Gah, get away!" I gasped as the hand twisting my wrist tightened, and pain throbbed through my body like poison. When nothing happened, I struggled against Altaïr further. "Get _off, _you asshole. I'm not going to do anything, anyway! I would like the chance to walk around a bit, if you don't mind!"

"Who is that?" Altaïr growled in my ear. I cringed back, taken by surprise that he had, first off, actually said something, and second that he was still so creepily close. For a fleeting second I wondered how Altaïr, the fumble-his-way-through-relationships-in-the-one-blue-moon-he-actually-met-a-girl-he-didn't-immediately-injure man, had had offspring that was so cool with the ladies that he was freezing every female he touched. Aaaand then back to Desmond, who was more or less hopeless. I quickly shook away these strangely amusing thoughts and focused back on my situation.

"Who is what?" I countered cryptically. If I had better hearing, I might have caught Altaïr gritting his teeth.

"The man in that room. How are you associated with him?" Patience, wearing thin. Altaïr's annoyance, increasing at an exponential rate. My level of comfort, decreasing into the furthest reaches of hell.

"What, the old one? I'm not _associated _with him, dear Alty." I said dryly. "He's a Templar. An enemy of ours, wouldn't you say?"

Altaïr had most likely shredded his teeth down to nubs in frustration. "If he is a Templar, why is he not already dead?" The Assassin gritted out through his teeth. At that statement, I suddenly knew that if Altaïr clawed (if not with a panther-like grace that only Altaïr could pull of, insert sarcasm here) his way back into that room and got to Vidic, there would now be zero hesitation, and Vidic would die. No matter how much I hated the old bastard, there was no way I could let that happen. Negotiation was my only option at that point, and I wasn't gonna like it.

"Listen, Altaïr," I coerced, using my sweetest, most persuasive voice, which was pretty much useless. "Just let me go in there and get Desmond and Lucy out, because they're Assassins, you know, on our side. I won't even talk to Vidic."

There was a moment of tense silence. A quiet shift off to my right made me realize that Akilina was listening in. At last a reply from Altaïr. "How can I be sure you will not set the Templar free as well?" He asked threateningly. I swallowed.

"If . . . if I'm lying, I swear that I'll let you kill me." I got out, with difficulty. It wasn't easy telling someone they can kill you if you step out of line. Another second of silence, in which I wondered if Altaïr wasn't going to shank me on the spot.

Then, "Very well. But be aware that I will hold you to your promise." The tight hold on my arm was released, and I sighed with relief. As I made my way to the door, however, I found that my poor arm was in some serious pain still, and I rolled it carefully in its socket before deciding to tuck it in against my stomach to keep it out of harm's way.

[…]

The door opened, which surprised me. I had thought that I would walk away in embarrassment, not being able to access it, but then it hit me that they—meaning Akilina and Altaïr—must have forced Lucy to give them the key or something.

I jogged (as best as I could with my poor little cuts) to where Lucy and Desmond were tied. I flipped out a small dagger that Altaïr had very reluctantly given me and sliced the evil wire. As soon as I straightened up, Vidic began rattling off all the reasons why I was an insufferable prick, and I quickly ushered Lucy and Desmond out of the room and away from the Volatile Vidic.

**[DOS 3]**

After my little rescue a couple days ago, Lucy had warmed up to me considerably, smiling at me more often and occasionally making conversation. I had told Desmond about Akilina, and he did the same for Altaïr. There was really no reason for me to listen, and taking into account the fact that Desmond hadn't even gotten through where the game ended, I actually knew more about that then Desmond did. Or Altaïr, for that matter.

And Desmond . . . things were so very awkward around him now. I was having trouble confronting him other than to say simple things like what to shove into Vidic's face as food today, or how to divide blankets at night. I had thought that we were friends, even best friends, but I guess nothing can really go right in my life. No matter how I tried to explain the situation with Ezio, Desmond didn't want to hear it. He hung around Lucy most of the time, the latter of whom was seemingly very confused about the whole topic. Lucy, I knew, had let Ezio into Abstergo Industries, but she didn't know about . . . er, the . . . well. That night. The thing that happened that night that I didn't want to talk about and for some reason made me go very red and made me very sad whenever I looked at Desmond and I'm changing the topic now.

Altaïr was having a hard time adjusting, to say the least. Everything he saw seemed to confuse him, but he never said so, of course. Silent as always, only speaking when he thinks it's necessary. What to do now, though, was an issue. Thirty days was the limit I had given Ezio, and three had gone by. I had an average month. That was it, because when he came back for me, I was leaving with him, whether I brought _it _with me or not. Damned thing. I wish it had never been created. Because actually, in retrospect, I would probably have to bring it with me. Unless I wanted bad, bad things to happen. There were things that needed to happen, though. If my hypothesis was correct (wow that sounded really smart, hurr da derp) then hopefully nothing else would come out of the Animus or Assassin's Creed. Hopefully. Things that needed to happen in a certain timeline needed to be accomplished in the approximate month I had given Ezio, and by now I had found exactly what role I was supposed to play. It pained me to admit it to myself, even as I realized that it was true. Because everything was starting to fit into place. I came before Desmond, no?

You figure it out.

**A few things here.**

**-I'm going to work that last angle slowly. It will definitely come into effect on the night of DOS 30.**

**-As you can see, these chapters need to be longer to encompass more D'sOF, so expect slower updates. Sorry, everyone.**

**-I need some help. Tori wants my mind made up on this, so consider this the interactive section of Masquerade. I need reviews soon, though. So, prompt. ****Anna, Ezio, and Desmond triangle VS. Anna, Ezio, Desmond and Alta****ï****r square. ****Tell me in the reviews!**

**Safety and peace,**

**AF**


	18. Alekhine's Gun

**Chapter 18**

**Dear reviewers,**

**Listen, I'm sorry. This is getting extremely difficult to write, and I stay up WAY too late on school nights trying to finish it. Sometimes my writing tends to . . . get weird at night. Hence the whole triangle/square thing. In retrospect, I don't know if I'm going to stick with either of those. Just stuff to toss about for ideas. So yeah, I'm sorry about that. Another thing about Anna being Sixteen, I think I have a plan for that. It, as well as the whole fooking **_**plot **_**for that, has to do with DOS 30. It seems a long way away, and I expect each and every one of you to stick with me. I just wanted to say thank you to all of you for giving me the inspiration to keep going. And I wanted to give a very special thanks to **_**you. **_**That's right, you staring at the screen! I love you.**

**Most sincerely,**

**AF**

**P.s. MaryandMerlin, I've already seen that. Tori and I know the whole thing by heart and sing it at random intervals. **** Thanks, though. Also, I know what you want with the plot, and believe me; I've considered every option this story could possibly take. Just know that I don't think I care whether Sixteen was male in the game or not. WAIT! I got inspiration just typing this. Never mind, it's under control.**

**P.p.s. Love you too, Shell. :D And you know when I really love reviewers when I give them nicknames. **

**P.p.p.s. To **_**ALL **_**of my reviewers and long-time followers who haven't reviewed yet and I have no idea why, just please keep in mind that the D'sOS are gonna start flying, because I can't do every day like last chapter . . . hmm, though it might make me write longer chapters . . . we'll see.**

**Song: Funhouse, P!nk**

"…**This museum full of ash, once a tickle, now a rash!**

**This used to be a funhouse, but now it's full of evil clowns.**

**It's time to start the countdown…"**

**[DOS 5]**

My heart hurt. I had never known exactly what people had meant when they said heartbreak, but I now knew the full and very literal definition. It was strange, like a hollow, aching feeling to the left in my ribcage. Most of my time was spent lying in the big bed, which felt very empty and cold. That very fact might be contributing to my poor heart. Desmond had drawn the line with his pissed-offed-ness with me, and decided to sleep on the floor. Maybe it was because I had thought we were best friends, or just the fact that I was in a deep depression caused by a certain Arabic Assassin and his bringing-the-weather-with-him ways, but Desmond leaving the bed felt like a tipping point of some sort. It made me feel as though . . . if I didn't do something now, I would leave in twenty-five days being utter enemies with him.

My bed was occasionally shared with Akilina, when she wasn't keeping watch. On that bed was where I found myself now, in fact; I was on my back, staring at the ceiling with my head where my feet should be, listening to Coldplay's "The Scientist" in my head to keep myself occupied. Trying to remember all the lyrics was a fun, if not frustrating, way to stay awake.

Sometimes Abstergo's employee's visited our floor, and Akilina drove them away with charms, incomparable beauty, and a sharp knife to the throat. No, she didn't kill anyone, just threatened to give them an excruciatingly painful and slow death if they breathed a word about what was going on up here.

I still didn't know where _it _was. That was what had caused the explosion, I was positive. The sheer power of it coming out of the Animus must have caused the very foundation of the office building to shake. But no matter what, I had to get my hands on _it _before we let Vidic go, because if it got in his hands the whole earth would come crashing in on itself. It was somewhere in the vicinity, I could feel it. The sheer power of the p—

A knock on the bedroom door interrupted my musings. I gave a noise that sounded like a mix between 'okay' and 'come in.' The door slid open to reveal none other than Lucy. I furrowed my brow and flipped over so she was right side up.

"Can I sit down?" She asked quietly. I nodded, too confused to say anything. The blond walked in and tentatively sat on the end of the bed. She paused for a second, then began speaking.

"Listen, Anna, about Ezio . . . are you sure he's going to come back? Because he has a chance to escape now, and, well . . ." Lucy trailed off, and I replied without missing a single beat.

"Yes." I said firmly. "I know he's going to come back. Ezio doesn't leave people he . . . uh . . . I mean . . . friends. He doesn't leave behind friends." I winced inwardly after narrowly avoiding the words 'people he loves.' I might not be able to take that.

Lucy didn't seem to notice, or if she did (which is highly likely) she didn't let me know. "Oh, good." She sounded relieved, or maybe it was just me. "And there's one more thing. It's about Desmond."

My thoughts began to race around, as well as my currently ripping-apart heart. I opened my mouth, but nothing seemed to want to come out, so I shut it again. Lucy remained silent, however, and taking this as her way of telling me it was my turn to talk, I opened my mouth again and forced something out.

"Lucy, I really don't . . ." I shook my head.

But that lady was determined. "Anna, I just wanted to know . . . is there anything between you and Desmond?"

I couldn't say I was completely surprised me. It was pretty blatantly stated, though, and I suppose that was what must have caught me off guard. Despite me predicting the conversation, though, I decided to play it cool.

"What do you mean?" I asked innocently. Something inexplicable flashed in Lucy's eyes—something that wasn't possible to explain. It was sharper than a knife, but softer than a burst of sunshine on an overcast day.

"You know exactly what I mean, Anna," She said, a dangerous note in her voice. In that moment I was reminded that she was, in fact, an Assassin. It was hard to remember that with Lucy sometimes, because she was so gentle and soft, like a white rabbit. But when push came to shove, she was more like the white rabbit in Monty Python's "The Holy Grail."

"I care for Desmond, Anna," Lucy continued, her voice like liquid steel. "And whatever you did to him better be fixed soon, because I don't know how long I can see him like this."

I frowned, sitting up on the bed with my legs crossed. "Like what?" I asked. I hadn't seen any serious change in Desmond. His sarcasm rate went down a bit, and the bags under his eyes were a bit more pronounced than usual, but other than that . . . unless I was missing something.

Lucy shook her head, a humorless laugh breaking out of her lips. "Anna," She sighed, sounding exasperated. "Anna, you're so blind. Haven't you seen Desmond lately? I mean _really _seen him?" Taking in my blank stare, she continued. "Desmond's completely stricken, Anna. He's always looking at you, even if you don't know it. His Animus sessions are turbulent, and we have to end them early most times. Not to mention that his memories of Altaïr are mostly revolving around Altaïr wandering around, not doing much of anything. And I have a feeling that the same feeling is in his own head, not just Altaïr's memories." She frowned at me sideways. "I don't know what you did to him, Anna. But you better fix him fast, because the sessions need to get somewhere." With that she stood and, without waiting for my reply, walked out of the bedroom.

**[DOS 6]**

Akilina and Altaïr had come to the unspoken conclusion that they would attempt to teach each other the other's language. Akilina would teach Altaïr Russian, and vice versa. Akilina, from my amused observations, seemed to be the better learner. Maybe it was the time difference or what, but she was catching onto Arabic much faster than Altaïr was learning Russian. In fact, she seemed to be having something of a field day watching Altaïr struggling with the jacked pronunciations. She would sometimes, after several failed attempts at saying synonyms for different words, crack up laughing. This annoyed Altaïr to no end, obviously, and he would usually storm off with different excuses for leaving. Akilina's sense of humor was a good one, if you knew how it operated; I guess what it all boils down to is that Akilina, despite her unquenchable thirst for the blood of her enemies and an utterly morbid sense of humor, she was a lot like me. After spending these few days with her, I'm actually starting to get scared by how much of myself I can actually see reflected back at me.

**[DOS 9]**

The days are getting . . . strange. Everything seems slightly off-kilter, like the world was a teeter-totter and I was on one end and there was a just a little bit overweight kid on the other end. Desmond still isn't talking to me, but I'm working on that. My efforts to interact with him have increased since my conversation with Lucy. It's as if a large brick wall has popped up in front of him, and none of my tanks or machine gun attempts can break it down. Lately, though, it seems to be cracking. Hairline fractures in his defense; grinning at a joke I made about the quality of Altaïr's Russian, or nodding when I made a point about how to deal out provisions to Vidic. A smile here, a wrinkled brow here, a grin hidden carefully as a yawn over there. Vital as these advancements were, however, it couldn't really amount to anything unless I took action. Serious action.

It wasn't going to be easy, but I knew I could do it. There was no alternative. My choices were down to going after Desmond and decreasing my chances of finding _it, _or focusing all my energies on _that _and lose Desmond.

Lying in my bed, watching through the glass spaces in the Abstergo bedroom door, I gazed at the sun going down after yet another day. My options on Desmond circled around me like something palpable, like something I could hold in my hand and toss away if I wanted to. On the one hand, going after _it _would seem like the obvious choice. What's the life of one man to the lives of the entire Earth's population? _That _would be disastrous if Vidic found it, and I had to let him go sometime.

On the other hand, there was no sign of _it. _There were no indications that _it _was what had caused Abstergo to crumble slightly. Yet deep in my gut, I knew. I knew _it _was here, that _it _was now in our reality, just as Ezio and Altaïr were. But there was no way of knowing where _it_ was, so why shouldn't I focus on Desmond? Why shouldn't I?

The red sun disappeared behind the washed-out buildings, and day nine of my solitude ended, and I knew what my choice was. In some ways, perhaps there was never any real choice. Perhaps I had always known what the decision would have been. But it was certain now, and I kept the truth in my mind, even as I walked into the Animus room and asked to talk to Desmond alone. Because I needed to break down that brick wall.

By any means necessary.


	19. Prophylaxis

**Chapter 19**

**Dear people,**

**At this point I'm just checking my regular reviewers off a list every time a new chapter comes out, I.E. Shell—check, MaryandMerlin—check, oh looky here flyingcrispi hasn't reviewed yet, tsk tsk. If you want more information on the plot and what such buggery go and look at the AN for chapter 18. Also, read this in the voice of Ben "Yahtzee" Croshaw because he's EPIC.**

**Most sincerely,**

**AF**

**Song: Mr. Brightside, The Killers**

"**I'm coming out of my cage and I've been doing just fine,**

**Gotta gotta be down, because I want it all.**

**It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?"**

**[DOS 9/10]**

When I found Desmond, I dragged him into the bedroom and made sure that the automatic door clsed behind us. My eyes attempted to adjust, because although the room was moderately lit, I could assume that when the…the_ p_…_it _came out of the Animus, it must have shaken some of the electricity or circuit boards or something. Turning around, I caught sight of a half-shadowed Desmond, who was looking very much as though he didn't want to be there. Stalking towards him, I stopped a few feet away with my arms crossed. I tried looking angry for a second, but gave up and just put on a rather pitiful/sorrowful face.

"Desmond," I said quietly. At the sound of his name Desmond looked directly at me. "Just . . . what were you thinking? When you saw Ezio?" I knew immediately that those were the words that I really _shouldn't_ have chosen. The gold in Desmond's eyes lit from cool amber into molten bronze.

"What was _I _thinking?" He asked incredulously, a touch of anger in his voice. "_I _wasn't the one who decided to hide the fact that I wasn't real! _I _wasn't the one who got caught sucking face with my ancestor!" By now he was really worked up. Both comment he had made cut me deep, and I knew just a small amount of lying on my part was going to have to kick in. Stepping forward, I attempted to reason with Desmond.

"Listen, Desmond, for just one second—" But it was no use. The modern Assassin pushed past me.

"No, Anna. I'm done listening. I was done listening when that stupid Italian broke into Abstergo." He started towards the door, but I dashed in front of him and put a hand on his chest to stop him from moving forward. If I let Desmond go now, Lucy would be so mad at me . . .

Desmond glanced down at the hand I had on the front of his hoodie, and I quickly yanked it back down to my side. Taking a deep breath, I looked straight into Desmond's eyes. He held my gaze for several moments, before his eyes flashed an alarmingly bright blue and reverted back to a slightly more luminescent golden color. He was using the Vision.

"Well?" I asked sarcastically, playing his negativity at me back at him. "What do you see? Red? Am I a Templar, Desmond? Sent to infiltrate the Assassin order?" My voice was so laden with sarcasm that I could almost pick the words right out of the air. A strange look passed across Desmond's face; curiosity mixed with confusion and a slight trace of fear. For a split second I thought that I had been correct, in which case my mind would have been sufficiently blown, but I was wrong.

With a slight shake of his head, Desmond replied in a thoughtful tone, "No, you're not red. You're gold."

I was taken aback. What, he was going to _kill _me now? Somehow I knew that wasn't it. Getting my mind back on track, I continued the point I was making earlier, and the lie that I wasn't sure about, and made me uneasy about the whole topic. Because I wasn't sure it was a lie or not.

"Desmond, I never . . . agreed to kiss Ezio. He just kind of . . . I don't know . . . grabbed me. So . . ." Here comes the maybe-uneasy-turbulent-scary-heartracing-blushing-stomachchurning-frightening-almost untruthful lie. "No, Desmond. There's nothing between Ezio and I."

If I had thought there were "flashes" of emotions on Desmond's face a few minutes ago, it was nothing compared to his expression now. It looked like his face was alight; the melted bronze of his eyes had seared into two small brass suns. Stepping closer to me, (which wasn't really possible), he muttered quietly, "Eagle Vision was right, once again."

In a terrified moment—well, one terrified moment out of many in that second—I thought that he really _was_ going to kill me. It was a split second after that thought that I remembered the scene in Assassin's Creed 2, when you have your last memory of Altaïr. His target was in yellow, but it wasn't an enemy. It was Maria. And when he caught up to her—

All other thoughts were obliterated as Desmond swooped down and kissed me.

It was nothing like the first time. There was nothing light or frilly about this. It was even more vicious (was that the right word?) then Ezio's kiss. It was almost violent, probably bordering on abuse. Now I was almost positive my lips were going to be bruised, but right then I didn't really care. I felt one of his hands on the back of my head, and another on my hip; but it was distant, as if I were floating and watching the scene from above. Faintly I observed that my hands were on his shoulders—when had that happened? A faint graze of stubble brushed my cheek, and I blushed an even deeper shade of pink.

I don't know how long we stood there. Five minutes, maybe. After a while Desmond pulled away, looking really pretty pleased with himself. One of his hands was on my cheek still, and for some absurd reason I couldn't get my face to stop being all flushed. He bent down and pecked me once more on the lips, brushed a thumb across my cheek, hugged me, and walked out the door into the Animus room. I waited for a moment to let my face cool down before fixing my hair slightly and following him.

Lucy spied me leaving, and passed me a look that clearly said, "Well-I'm-glad-you-got-that-all-sorted-out."

Despite everything, to me, nothing felt sorted out. Nothing at all.

**[DOS 11]**

Desmond was in a much better mood as of late. Admittedly, I was too, but there were three things bugging me. First was that I was trying to cover the fact that I was in a better mood because underneath all of that I think I was in a pissy mood anyway from all the crap in my life.

Thing Number 2 that getting on my nerves: Akilina. She was starting to catch on, and it made me feel kinda weird, because she kept slipping me these odd little looks. In fact, I'm pretty sure everyone was catching on, except for maybe Altaïr, because if his experiences in the personal lives of women could be measured, it would equal about a half of a thimble.

And last but not least, the guilt. It wouldn't leave me alone. It felt like there was a tiny worm eating away at the back of my skull, getting bigger and fatter the longer I tried to ignore it. The guilt was also accompanied by the strange feeling of being a traitor. I wasn't altogether sure _why, _but it hurt. All of that wasn't being helped by the fact that Desmond kept doing all sorts of constant (if not quite adorable) little displays of affection. Like hugging me from behind and kissing my cheek when he thought the others weren't looking. Every day I was in a constant state of semi-blush, and I wondered if the level of blood in my face would ever return to normal.

Then there was _it. _Where was it? There was no sign of it, no abnormalities in the space-time continuum (other than the usual science defying crap), and certainly no sudden rise in Templar power. I made a note to stay vigilant.

[…]

Animus sessions were starting to hurt. I knew that it came with the position, but I convinced myself that this was a good thing. My part to play. Besides, it all fit. Lucy was sending me to all the predicted places. The Civil War in the U.S.A. and once, I went to an opera.

**[DOS 12]**

I got a serious scare today. My session was going normally, or as normal as they could go, when Lucy asked through those white loading screens (which, in real experience, are just bundles of fun since I'm not killing anybody) if she could try something different. I said okay, and the screen shaded into somewhere different. It was somewhere I had never been before.

My ancestor, as far as I could tell, was taller than the real me. About six feet tall, with really long dark brown hair. She was carrying a rifle, wearing white clothes that could be easily moved around in. A blood red bandana was tied around the barrel of her gun, and another around her right wrist. Her feet made crunching noises in drying, yellow and brown leaves. She—I—squinted, attempting to see further ahead. It was very dark out, in the middle of the night. Tall trees rose like silent sentinels around me, leaves that were red, gold, and all assortments of fall colors drifting in a trance-like haze toward the ground, looking like they were falling in slow motion.

Someone ahead of me somewhere called my name. Annabeth. How coincidental. Annabeth jogged ahead to the edge of a clearing, where a man was crouched in the bushes. He greeted her, a crooked smile lighting up his face. He pointed ahead, into the clearing, and Annabeth focused on what he was pointing at. The shape was hard to make out at first, but soon it became clear what it was.

Rustling in the bushes was a deer. Probably the biggest one I had ever seen. It was a giant buck, with branches of antlers extending to the heavens. It was gently nosing through the short, soft grass. I felt Annabeth smile. One of the creature's ears pricked, and it's head shot up. Really, I had no clue how Annabeth wasn't immediately spotted by the buck, because her white Assassin uniform was almost glowing. The pair of hunters sat tensely for several minutes before the deer bowed it's head once more.

Now, there was a reason I was a vegetarian.

Almost in unison, Annabeth and her companion raised their rifles. There was a sharp click as my ancestor cocked it, and the deer was suddenly on high alert again. It took one step forward, and suddenly I knew what was going to happen before it did.

I wanted to look away, but I was trapped in Annabeth. A sharp bang echoed through the night, and I heard myself silently scream in shock. Soon after the shot there was a heavy thump, followed by a triumphant yell from the man. Why this was so traumatizing, I had no idea. I had spent months in the skin of killers. The vegetarian inside of me was crying, while the rest of me was horrified. If I had had my own body, I would have been frozen in shock. But I could only shiver mentally at the sight of the deer bleeding onto the green grass. The red liquid looked black in the night.

That might have been what did it for me. I reached my mind back into my physical body and forced myself out of the Animus. The last thing I saw through Annabeth's eyes as she looked up to the sky was the moon. In that moment, despite the horror I had just witnessed, I knew that I was on the right track. I was perfectly terrified.

[…]

Lucy looked confused when I came out of the Animus, but didn't ask any questions. As I walked to the bedroom, I realized that I was shaking. Wonderful. Going right according to plan.

The door to the bedroom slid open, and I saw Desmond crashed on the right side of the bed. I smiled and looked down to the floor. Which was a mistake; because that's when I knew the timeline of the Earth was officially fucked.

I mean, I had thought Altaïr and Akilina were on okay terms, seeing as they were at least comfortable enough with each other to give language lessons, but well, let's just say that what I saw on my twelfth day of imprisonment was more than 'okay terms'. I slowly backed out the door, and neither of them seemed to notice.

I went back into the Animus room and walked to one of those little platforms in the corners of the room. As I passed the window to the interview room, I saw Vidic, still tied up. He looked unconscious. Red strings of blood lined his hands, and I unconsciously rubbed the healing scars on my own wrists. His white beard was growing out at odd angles, and his chin was on his collarbone. I couldn't help but feel a little bad, but I hastily shoved the thoughts away and went to lay against the giant control panels that lined the walls on top of the platforms.

I rested my head against the cold metal, thinking about Annabeth's memory of hunting. In the woods. Under the moon. A humorless smile skirted across my face at the oddness of it all. My thoughts wandered to Lucy, and Ezio, and Gladston, where I was horrified to remember that he probably wasn't being fed, and sent a silent prayer to Leah that she was making good use of the information as to where I put my spare key.

All at once a sharp burst of raw power hit my lower back, and I jumped violently, holding back a shriek. I turned around to see what had done that. There couldn't be rats, or spiders. Subconsciously I knew that it wasn't vermin or arachnids. It was . . . well, _it. _What I had been looking for. I squinted closer, trying to use Vision, but it wouldn't come. After a couple minutes, I decided to just try my luck. My hand dove between the walls of circuitry and groped around in the dark. It was slightly dusty, but I gritted my teeth and leaned closer so I could look further. Nothing but dust and smooth flooring. I was about to give up when suddenly my fingers spiked with sharp, warm power, accompanied by a metal smoothness. Excitement gathered in my chest, and I stretched my arm so far I thought it might break right off.

And there it was. In my hand. It felt as though I was completely full, and the way I had been living before had been like living without a major organ in my body. Everything seemed to slow down. It looked off, and I wished the world would go back to normal speed. No sooner had the thought entered my mind that time resumed its normal pace. I furrowed my brow. What an odd device. Altaïr's writings could never capture how powerful the Piece of Eden made you feel.


	20. Dead Draw

**Chapter 20**

**Dear Assassins,**

**So, we've reached twenty. Never thought I'd get this far. I love every single one of you. Now, please enjoy the twentieth chapter of Masquerade.**

**Most sincerely,**

**AF**

_**I'm here…I have to stay here until you understand! Listen. Why do we have these gifts, these abilities? Because it's in our blood! –Subject 16**_

**Song: When You Were Young, The Killers**

"**You sit there in your heartache,**

**Waiting on some beautiful boy to,**

**To save you from your old ways;**

**You play forgiveness, watch it now, here he comes!**

**He doesn't look a thing like Jesus but he**

**Talks like a gentleman,**

**Like you imagined when you were young."**

**[DOS 15]**

Three days. Three days have passed since I found the Piece of Eden discarded in the matrix of Abstergo. Three days I have kept the Piece hidden underneath a sheet, inside a pillow, underneath my bed. Three days I have had to live with the inescapable guilt of being with Desmond. Three days I have dealt with Akilina making big blue eyes at Altaïr while the latter pretends there's nothing there, even though he's always looking at her when he thinks nobody's watching. Three days I have endured the increasingly more painful Animus sessions. Three days I have observed my hands getting shaky, and my dreams becoming more like Sixteen's drawings. Three days I have ripped myself away from the temptation of the Piece.

Nothing was helping. I tried sleeping. I let Desmond drown me with not-so subtle affection. I tried taking relaxing showers. I tried _everything._ And I was still shaking. Shivering. Waking up in the middle of the night after terrifying nightmares about dying, in a thousand different ways in a thousand different time periods. Every night was plagued by the constant warmth of the Piece under the bed, directly below me so Desmond couldn't feel it. It was, in the words of future/past Altaïr, temptation incarnate.

**[DOS 16]**

Lucy and I were the best of friends now. We talked and laughed, and it was a welcome break from stuff like the Piece and Desmond and that whole deal with Akilina and Altaïr that I didn't want to get involved in for fear of Altaïr disemboweling me. It was seriously awkward when everything would be going normally, and I would go into the bedroom to take a nap after an Animus session and I would abruptly and extremely awkwardly walk in on the two Assassins in a passionate make-out session. It was at times like these when I just couldn't get the gun to my mouth fast enough.Kidding. Or am I?

**[DOS 17]**

It was today that I realized that my time here was over halfway over. Not long now, and Ezio would come to rescue me. Rescue. What a word. So many different feelings came with the two simple syllables. Feelings like hope, and fear, and excitement, and anxiousness, and anger. But towering over all of those was the terrifying feeling of dread.

What was I going to tell Desmond? How was I going to explain that . . . that I had lied to him that day when he kissed me? Because only now did I come to that conclusion. I had lied to him, plain and simple.

_No, Desmond. There's nothing between Ezio and I._

I remember the day clearly. The problem, I found, wasn't going to be getting the words out. It would be learning to live with myself after knowing that I had broken his heart.

**[DOS 18]**

I've begun dreaming about Mary-Alice being killed. The dream went something like this:

It started with my dream-self waking up in the Abstergo bed, lying next to Desmond. Desmond would be sleeping. Akilina and Altaïr would be lying next to the bed on the floor. I would get up and go out into the Animus room. It was always dark, and after I went outside Gladstone **(that's how it's really spelled) **would greet me. I'd pet him, and he would run off again, disappearing into the abyss of the dream world.

Here was where the variables changed. The murderer—and the murdered.

My dream-self would then walk into the conference room. Vidic was never there; instead it would be my sister, or Emily, or Leah, or my parents, or someone close to me. I always conveniently had a knife on my person, and immediately after I untied the person tied up there, someone else would jump from the shadows and stab them in the back. It was usually someone in Abstergo with me, but Ezio was there too. Altaïr, Akilina, Lucy, Desmond. Everyone was there to kill someone I loved. The killer would then turn to me, but the pierce of the blade woke me up every time.

**[(Night of) DOS 18]**

It was the worst, most confusing dream I've had yet. Ezio had been the one tied up. I had been so happy to see him that I hadn't thought of what was about to happen afterwards. All I remembered, now that I was awake, was hugging Ezio like there was no tomorrow, and him hugging me back. A few seconds were a blur. The rest of the dream was horrifically concentrated. Desmond leapt out of the darkness and slit Ezio's throat, and it was all so real. I could _feel _Ezio crumble as Death carried him away, and I _felt _the hot blood running across my arms . . .

I woke with a gasp, barely managing to hold in a scream. My hands were shaking more violently than normal, and my body was covered with a thin sheen of cold sweat. Lying back down, I sighed shakily and rubbed my eyes, when I realized with a start that I had been crying. I couldn't remember the last time I had cried; when I was really little, I knew that. Moaning, I curled up into a tiny ball and flipped onto my left side. There was no measure of time as I sat there, not trying to stop the salty water falling across the bridge of my nose. I could have lain there for twenty minutes, or an hour, or even longer. Truly, I didn't care. All I knew was that the entire time I sat there, I never stopped crying. A small whimper escaped my lips, and I instantly wished I had continued my silent weeping, because a split second later I realized that I'd woken up Desmond.

The modern Assassin groaned and turned over to face me. His eyes were bleary and his short dark hair was sticking up in all directions, which was actually kind of funny. He was tired, I could tell, but he was instantly awake when he saw my tears. It was almost inhuman, how fast he was able to scoot across the entire width of the bed and wrap me up in his arms. My body tensed up for a beat, but I relaxed, deciding not to fight it. Another cry tore itself from my throat and I threw my arms around Desmond's neck and pressed my splotched face into his shoulder.

If he was surprised by this reaction, he didn't really react, but I could feel just the tiniest increase in his heart rate. Pretending not to notice this, I sniffled and hugged him closer. It felt nice to be hugged like this, but it all felt off. All of it had hairline fractures in it that threatened to make it all crumble if struck too hard. And by the time Ezio came to get me, I will have hit it with a hammer. I would have to.

For now, though, I was going to have to play the helpless, frightened girlfriend. I cringed inwardly. The word 'girlfriend' sounded so suddenly, awfully clunky and _wrong _that I swore then and there to never call myself that unless I was with . . . er . . . moving on. There was no way I was telling him about my _real _nightmare, so I was just going to make something up. And for once, I had it handed to me on a silver platter, my perfect nightmare excuse.

When Desmond asked, as I knew he would, all I had to do was shake my head morosely and say one word. "Vidic."

I felt him stiffen, and I hugged him harder. Desmond snapped out of it (whatever 'it' was) and began stroking my hair. We must have stayed like that for forty-five minutes before Desmond pulled back to look at me closely. I had stopped crying.

He smiled a smile that said I'm-happy-you're-okay-now-we-should-get-some-sleep. He leaned forward and kissed me once, twice, three times on the lips, the third lingering for a little longer. It was a good thing it was dark, so Desmond couldn't see me blushing. And then there was that tiny little worm of guilt eating at the back of my skull again. Stupid little thing. With a stab of sudden traitorous-ness, I pushed the little worm further back and smothered it with a pillow. With the Guilt Worm safely dead, I moved forward and kissed Desmond again, leaning against him with more force. He responded eagerly, draping one arm around my waist and putting another on the side of my neck. I sighed deeply, tightening my arms around his neck and angling my head so I could kiss him deeper.

The Worm ate through the pillow.

**[DOS 19]**

When I woke up, Desmond still had his arms around me. A flush crept up my neck as I remembered kissing—well, actually, 'kissing' isn't quite the right word. More like 'making out.' The Guilt Worm was running rampage in my mind, and I tried my hardest to ignore it. But it was like trying to ignore an excited puppy with a cattle bell around its neck—impossible, and after a while you feel like taking a shotgun to the face.

Akilina had been acting really weird as of late. She didn't want to move around as much, and one day she threw up. She was tired all the time, and never volunteered to be the food deliverer like she used to. I was worried, because I couldn't stop thinking that my ancestor had gotten some sort of modern disease since her immune system wasn't working right or something and now important political figures that were supposed to die were going to live if I didn't get her back in the Animus and now she was going to die and—

I took a deep breath. It's okay. It's just a little stomach flu or something, nothing to worry about. It'll pass.

We—as in, Desmond, Lucy, and I—were all sitting on the Animus, watching Altaïr struggle with his Russian. It was really very funny when Altaïr would say something so twisted and warped that Desmond couldn't help but comment on it. Though, he would say it in Arabic, so only Altaïr would know what he was saying and Akilina only got the general gist of. Several times Lucy and Akilina had to interfere and break it up, because Altaïr would challenge the laughing Desmond to a fist fight, which Desmond always lost via a punch to the diaphragm.

Today, however, it was the other way around. Akilina was having some serious trouble with a long phrase in Arabic, and I snarked at her in Russian. Her tolerance rate was far lower than Altaïr's, and immediately after the words left my mouth, she literally _launched _herself at me from the floor. Looking back on it, I don't know how someone could from a cross-legged position to hurling through the air that fast.

Seconds before she hit me, I instinctively threw up my arms to protect myself. One jolted hard against her shoulder, stopping her (for the most part), but the other landed gently on her stomach.

The instant my hand touched her stomach, I cried out and jerked back so violently that I fell off the back of the Animus and hit my head on the floor—hard. Stars blew before my closed eyes, and I laid there for a moment. Grumbling slightly, I levered myself up and massaged the crown of my head. Bringing my hand back into my view, I saw that it was smeared with blood. Groaning, I stood up and began making my way to the bedroom to lie down for a while, Akilina still spinning around in my mind. I distantly felt Desmond's arm around my waist, helping me walk. At first I thought he was being overprotective, but a head rush hit me hard and I literally swooned. Passing out wasn't the most worrying of my problems right now; that position would be taken by Akilina.

I felt myself fall onto the bed, and a wet cloth on the back of my head. Dizziness hit me, and I felt a sting on the back of my head. Gathering up what strength I had from my stupid fall, I sat up to see Desmond looking at me worriedly. I coughed out a humorless laugh and grabbed his hand.

"I'm fine, Desmond." I said quietly.

Desmond raised an eyebrow. "Anna, you're bleeding. You almost _passed out. _I don't think that's what 'okay' means." He was grinning, but I could tell he was still worried. Internally rolling my eyes, I knew that he wasn't going to let me get up, even if I pleaded with him.

"Fine," I consented. "I'll stay here. But could you go get Akilina for me? I need to talk to her."

Desmond looked confused. "If you need to exact revenge, I could do that for you." He offered. I shook my head. Something about my seriousness made Desmond suspicious.

"Anna," He asked slowly. "Why do you _really _need to talk to her?"

The reality of it hit me like a punch to the gut. "Well," I started. "You know when she, like, went after me?" Desmond nodded. "Well, I blocked her, and my hand hit her stomach, and . . ." I shook my head again, not knowing how to say it without it sounding blunt and straightforward. "Desmond," My voice dropped to a whisper. "Akilina's pregnant."


	21. Mysterious Rook Move

**Chapter 21**

**Dear Brothers and Sisters,**

**Well, things are gonna get trippy, but I'm trying to plan this in a very specific way. So yes. Please enjoy, and try not to feel TOO bad for Desmond's heart.**

**Most sincerely,**

**AF**

**P.S. Check the link for the type of smiling Alty is doing. http:/ / browse (dot) deviantart (dot) com/?qh=§ion;=&q=say+hello+to+uncle+malik#/d2j5kgs **

_**The past—a vast web of connections and interconnections, all ruled by chance. Or is it? –Subject 16**_

**Song: How My Heart Behaves, Feist**

"**The cold heart will burst**

**If mistrusted first, and**

**The calm heart will break**

**If given a shake."**

**[DOS 21]**

Nine days left. There's so little time, with so much to do. So much is changing, including me. Animus sessions are unbearable, and now I can see faded visions of Templars and my past selves. My deaths are lived through the Animus. It's becoming really hard to concentrate on regular life when I see armed guards charging at me, only to pass through me, nothing but apparitions. But two days ago when I told Akilina about the baby, the biggest change of all happened. Altaïr's personality took a turn for the weird. Ever since yesterday afternoon, he's been acting oddly . . . sweet. He never makes Akilina do anything, or even asks. His arm is in an almost constant stage of _around her waist_, and every now and then he would place his hand on her stomach and smile. It's so chokingly cheesy that I would rather try a leap of faith out the window than stay here for nine more bloody days, but it looks like I have no choice. Really, it's pretty scary seeing Altaïr walking around and _smiling _all the time.

Desmond has descended into a deep state of depression. I've tried cheering him up, but whenever I get close to him, he blanches and hurries away. At first I was confused and slightly hurt, but then I put two and two together, as it seemed Desmond already had done. If history goes down accordingly, and I send Akilina and Altaïr back to their respective times, then Akilina would have her child in the 19th century, and Altaïr would never know his kid. But what was freaking Desmond out was that, if the baby is Altaïr's, then that would make Desmond and I related (unless Akilina was secretly sleeping with Desmond, in which case the same problem would appear).

If someone had a lot of time on their hands, then they could probably trace the whole lineage, all the way up to Desmond. But now, there would be no doubting that we were of the same blood. The thought made me slightly sick.

**[DOS 22]**

The Piece of Eden was still under the bed. After every Animus session, it was becoming increasingly more difficult to ignore the warmth between my shoulder blades. Sometimes I would feel like the princess in the "Princess and the Pea" story or whatever that's called. Except the princess was the one who hid the pea, and the pea was actually an incredibly powerful and ancient artifact, and the prince wasn't from the same time period as m—I mean, the prince was related to me. That first comment never happened. Strike it from the records. Er . . . ahem . . . moving on.

Today I was contemplating the Piece, which was making me very frustrated, when the door to the bedroom opened and in walked Lucy. She looked sad, but I couldn't fathom why. She sat uneasily on the end of the bed, looking . . . well, I couldn't really read her face. There were so many different emotions, it was hard to track one before it disappeared.

I grinned at her, and she returned the sentiment half-heartedly.

"What's up, Luce?" I asked. There! There it was! Finally an emotion I could pin down. Pity.

Lucy took a deep breath. "Listen, Anna, I'm sorry about, you know, you and Desmond, and Akilina's baby, And I just . . . I just can't help but feel responsible for some of this."

What? "Lucy, how are you possibly at fault for this? If there's anyone to blame, then blame Altaïr and his complete inability to keep it in his pants." I snickered. Lucy didn't laugh.

"It's just that I told you to go after him, and now that you guys are, well . . ." She winced. "I just can't stop thinking that if I hadn't told you to get together with Desmond then he wouldn't be so hurt now."

I sighed and looked down at my hands. "You can have him, Lucy. I don't think it was ever meant to go down that way anyway. Relatives don't feel the way about each other the way Desmond feels about me."

Lucy looked very surprised, but could also tell she was happy. About what, I have no idea, sarcasm, sarcasm. She quickly attempted to hide it, though. "Anna . . ." she started, but I shook my head hard enough to give me a slight headache.

"Don't, Luce. It's fine, really. Just . . . just let me think."

Lucy nodded, patted my shoulder, and walked out. I glanced up to make sure that she was gone, and after being sure that no one else would come into the bedroom, I jumped off the bed and dove underneath it. Clawing at the blanket underneath, I ripped the Piece out and held it delicately. This must be what it feels like for a druggie to get another fix. Euphoric.

Shaking away the fogginess suddenly surrounding my brain, I held the Piece up and looked _into _it. All I wanted to see was the past, not the future. The thought formed in my mind, and suddenly I couldn't get to the future, no matter how I probed. Good. Now, to business. _I need to see Akilina's child. _Gold blinded me, and suddenly I was zooming through time and space, flying across time, until I came to an abrupt stop.

[…]

I was standing in a small room with light pink curtains drawn over the large windows. A bed was in the middle of the room, and a woman in about her mid-twenties was laying on it, breathing heavily. _Akilina. _There were several nurses running about, busily preparing for the arrival of the child. Akilina screamed something in Russian that I would rather not repeat, and a nurse dove to my ancestor's side, holding her hand and cooing soothing words. Things were going well, but I suddenly realized something. _There is no man here. _That must mean that it was indeed Altaïr's kid. I shivered at the confirmation.

Immediately after I thought this, Akilina spasmed violently and gave a blood-curdling scream. I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn't watch this anymore. Looking down at the Piece, I thought the same, and several seconds later I was back in the bedroom, lying on the floor with the Piece in my hand.

**[DOS 23]**

Now I knew one thing was absolutely certain. Desmond was related to me. It was all so wrong, on so many different levels. I shuddered just thinking about the making-out . . . ugh, the incest of it all! It was so, so, so, so, SO lucky that nothing but kissing went on.

I couldn't bear to be around Desmond anymore. Occasionally I would see him with Lucy, and every time I came into view Lucy would whisper something to him that I couldn't hear. Desmond would look up, pale, then look back down at his hands and studied them so intensely you would think the cure for cancer was written there.

I was currently sitting on the bed, which seemed to be where I spent ninety percent of my days. My hands were covering my face, my elbows in the air. My nails were digging into my face hard enough that I could draw blood. Almost against my will, I could hear myself talking about how everything was connected. The past, the future, everything that has happened and everything that is to come is connected by coincidences. Or were they coincidences? Was everything pre-planned, already organized? W-was Ezio coming here chance, or Altaïr, or A-Abstergo, or anything? Was anything put to chance, or was some greater power c-controlling everything? God? T-the Ones Who Came Before?

Reality crashed down around me. My hands fell to my sides, and I felt hot blood running in streams down my face. Wiping a hand across my cheek, it came back scarlet. I fell back on the bed, staring up at the bleak white ceiling, looking almost as pure and inviting as a blank canvas. A canvas. My eyes flicked from my hand covered in my blood, and then to the ceiling. This was the next stage. After months of trying without success to use Eagle Vision, it seem ironic that now I could blink and it popped on, like flicking a light switch.

Standing up unsteadily on the soft bed, I put my hand on the ceiling and began to draw.

**[DOS 24]**

At least Lucy was happy now. It was obvious to me that she was really pretty into Desmond. Besides, that was how it was supposed to be. In the end of Brotherhood, it all makes sense. Six days from now, and it would be like I was never here. Then I can be with—er . . . ahem . . . moving—no. Not moving on. Then I can be with Ezio.

It'll be like I was never here.


	22. Outside Passed Pawn

**Chapter 22**

**Dear killers,**

**Fun, right? She finally admitted it. Also, prepare for DOS 30. It has twists so twisty you'll get whiplash.**

**Most sincerely,**

**AF**

**Song: I Will Follow You Into The Dark, (no artist name for some reason)**

"…**Just our hands clasped so tight, waiting for the hint of a spark.**

**If Heaven and Hell decide that**

**They both are satisfied, illuminate the "No's"**

**On their vacancy signs; if there's no one beside you**

**When your soul embarks, I will follow you into the dark."**

**[DOS 25]**

Something over the past couple days has been bugging me. It was the fact that I had never finished seeing Akilina's child being born. For some reason it felt like a betrayal of some sort. So I decided that five days before Ezio comes to get me I would use the Piece one last time to go see the baby. It's the least I could do for Akilina.

[…]

It was the familiar feeling of warmth, and then the less familiar sensation of hurling through time before jerking to a halt in the birthing room. There was the nurse soothing Akilina, and the gaudy pink curtains, and the soft bed. Everything was the same, except this time, I didn't chicken out when Akilina let loose that scream that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The nurses didn't even falter in their movements, getting water and cloths. Akilina's breathing was labored, and strands of fair, blond hair stuck to her sweaty forehead.

My head snapped to the right as the door to the room burst open and a ragged looking (if not also rather Malik-like in his ragged-ness) man stalked to the big bed and fell down next to Akilina. He rapidly apologized for being late, and it hit me that this must be her husband. Wow, Akilina was really quick to forget Altaïr. But something wasn't fitting into this puzzle. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was missing something vital.

Akilina screamed again, and I could tell the baby was coming. Her husband clutched her hand and dismissed the maid on Akilina's other side, telling her to get more water. Soon after that, Akilina screeched again, and the baby began to be born.

I didn't like watching the video of a baby being born in Mr. Phil's Consumer Ed class, and it was worse when it was happening right in front of you. I looked away, turning back only when I heard the child crying.

It was probably the cutest baby I had ever seen. Quite the set of lungs, too. Akilina and her husband kissed, and the nurse passed the child to Akilina, saying that it was a healthy boy. My ancestor proclaimed his name to be Kliment, and I smiled. This was such a nice memory; it was hard to think that the little babe would cause so much heartbreak in the future.

The scene began to fade, and I prepared to go back to 2012, but instead of the metal walls of Abstergo, I found myself in a small, worse for the wear quarter, where the several maids were gathered, one of them I recognized as the one who had been at Akilina's side to sooth her. The women were huddled in a circle, obviously deep in gossip.

". . . happy for her." I heard one elderly woman say. "It is such a healthy child. He will surely grow to be very powerful."

"I agree," A younger lady with dark hair replied solemnly. "But it is such a shame the boy will never know his brother."

I frowned. What? Brother?

My question was answered by the maid who had been with Akilina. "Yes, that was such a scandal! She arrives out of nowhere, speaking in foreign tongues wearing strange clothes, and a month into her pregnancy! It is no wonder the child did not live. It was not even Maksim's!"

My mind reeled. The child that Akilina was pregnant with in modern time . . . dies? A sudden wave of sorrow overwhelmed me. I didn't want to imagine the devastated Akilina when the baby was born dead . . .

My jaw dropped. Oh. Oh, my. Altaïr's child dies, which means that history isn't affected by an extra kid, and Altaïr's bloodlines aren't interrupted, so really, his only child was the one he had with Maria Thorpe. Which means . . . which means . . . that Desmond and I aren't related. _It means that I'm not related to Ezio, either._ It felt like my insides had suddenly grown a pair of wings.

The Piece dragged me back to modern times, my thoughts still shell-shocked from the sudden revelation.

[…]

My footsteps sounded loud and ungainly against the metal floor of the bedroom as I paced, debating whether or not to tell Desmond the truth. On the one hand, if I didn't tell him, then the poor boy wouldn't get hung up on me again, but he would be mentally wounded, probably for the rest of his life. On the other hand, if I told him the truth, my guilty conscious would go away from me knowing I wasn't lying to him anymore, but he might not let me go with Ezio. It was utterly infuriating, and I had no idea how to go about with it.

My steps led me from the doorway, past the bed, and all the way into the bathroom. I did an about-face and started marching back to the doorway, my hands clenched in the roots of my hair, my eyes burning.

To the doorway. Past the bed. Into the bathroom. Past the bed. Doorway. Bed. Bathroom. Bed. Ram face-first into Desmond.

I yelled out and jumped back suddenly. "Jesus _Christ, _Desmond, were you trying to give me an aneurism? Because you certainly succeeded!" I clutched at my heart in a mock heart attack, but stopped when I saw the expression on Desmond's face. It was absolutely somber, an odd fire in his eyes. Something about the intensity of his stare made me back up. I only got a few steps back, however, before my back hit the wall. _Dammit. _Now I was cornered. Desmond followed me, and I soon found myself pressing into the wall so hard that I thought I was going to melt right into the metal.

"Desmond, what the hell do you think you're doing?" I muttered. Desmond pressed his forehead against mine, and I wished I could move through matter right now and go right through the wall.

"I won't accept it, Anna." He said quietly. "You are _not _related to me. You can't be."

I winced at how spot-on he really was. It struck me that I couldn't outright tell him the truth; because there was no way I could be sure, as far as he knew. So as long as he believes it . . . why discourage him? But this couldn't continue. He couldn't keep believing that there was a chance for us, because I needed to leave. A stab of horror hit me as I remembered that Desmond hadn't been present when Ezio and I made our compromise. He has no idea that I'm leaving; for all he's concerned, I would be running away from everything. From Lucy and Altaïr, and him.

"No, listen, Desm—" I was cut off as Desmond violently slammed his lips against my own. What was with this guy and constantly trying to make out with me? I felt my ears grow warm, but I did not do anything to stop him. Desmond could believe whatever he wanted for five more days. The last thing I needed was a moping Desmond. I was going apathetic on this one. My hands curled into fists at my sides as I neither encouraged Desmond nor discouraged him. His hands grabbed my waist, and I blushed deeper.

Actually, not right now. I'm not really not feeling up to it, Desmond. I gently put my hands on his shoulders to push him away, but it worked very much against me. Poor Des must have thought it was some form of encouragement, because he pressed me more insistently against the wall and tilted his head. The mental sigh I gave was probably loud enough to be heard in another dimension. Almost sighing out loud, I rolled my eyes and kept my hands on Desmond's shoulders. At least this will keep him from being depressed for just five more days. Whatever, Desmond. Just . . . don't make me regret this.

Of course, that was when Lucy walked in.


	23. Spite Check

**Chapter 23**

**Dear artists of Death,**

**I want to apologize for the way I've been writing Desmond. He's very OOC, and I'm going to write him a little better from now on. Thank all of you for the reviews, because if any of you are writers, you know how much it motivates someone. I don't know how many of you are in the U.S., but we are getting some CRAP weather today. Lots of snow. I'm just skirting the edge and we've got about a foot. O_e It's really bad. But it does give me time to write! ;)**

**Most sincerely,**

**AF**

**P.s. Read this,**

**Then this,**

**Then a little bit of this,**

**Then that,**

**Then the game.**

**Song: The Silence, Mayday Parade**

"**Memories, they take her back**

**Every moment fades to black**

**Every kiss and every taste**

**She wishes time would ease the pain."**

**[DOS 25]**

I froze. Lucy looked like she'd been slapped in the face. My heart felt like it was doing complicated acrobatics on a trapeze before plummeting down, with no net to catch it. I turned my head to face her, and Desmond's lips migrated to my jawbone. Without removing my hands from his shoulders, I gently but firmly pushed him back. For a split second he looked hurt, but he followed my gaze to see Lucy still standing in the doorway, surprise and . . . something else . . . clear on her face. It was one of those emotions I couldn't pin down, though it looked close to heartbreak. The Guilt Worm cackled maniacally in my face, and I suddenly wished that I had the power of invisibility. Her face flushed, but I didn't know if it was from embarrassment or anger.

The silence was broken by a blushing Desmond, who cleared his throat pointedly. "Uh . . . hey, Lucy." His voice cracked on the word 'hey.'

Lucy's face turned to stone, the blue water of her eyes freezing to ice. "I can see I've interrupted something." She said, her voice as cold as her eyes.

My face heated up, but before I could respond Desmond decided to pop in and be inarticulate. "Lucy, this isn't—you don't understand—it's just a misunderstanding—"

Lucy was already shaking her head. "No, Desmond, it isn't." She turned to look at me. "Could I talk to you?" I nodded numbly, and Lucy walked stiffly back into the Animus room.

Desmond turned to me, a shameful look on his face, his cheeks still slightly pink. "Anna—" He started, but I held up a hand to stop him.

"It's . . . it's fine, Desmond. I'll just go talk to Lucy." I quickly hurried after the blonde.

[…]

"Anna, what do you think you're doing?" Lucy asked, an oddly furious note in her voice. I swallowed anxiously, already knowing this conversation wasn't going to be pretty.

I sighed. "Lucy, Desmond was right, this is just a misunderstanding. Because . . ." I tried to explain, but it dawned on me that there was no way I could. Even if I told her that I knew for a fact we weren't related, she would want proof. I would have to show her the Piece, and that would mess things up, I was sure.

"There's nothing there." I whispered. "I'm just . . . I'm just trying to keep from hurting him for a few more days. Ezio is coming, and then I won't be a trouble to any of you anymore." Lucy seemed surprised at this.

"Anna, you can't just leave Desmond," She replied, but her voice wasn't quite as harsh as before. "He relies on you, and I can't bear to see him hurt. The sessions go haywire when he upset."

"Is that the only reason you don't want him hurt?" I countered quietly. There was a sharp intake of breath from Lucy, confirming what I already knew. "It's okay, Lucy. It's just five days. But can I ask you something?" She nodded. "When I leave, I need you to act like you're completely heartbroken. Like you've literally had your soul torn out. I've recorded messages in the Animus, as well. If you could, I would need you to change my voice into that of a man's. Can you do that for me?"

Lucy looked utterly confused, which is natural, I suppose. "Anna, what is going on?"

I sighed. "I can't tell you, Lucy. I just can't."

**[DOS 27]**

So close, yet so far.

It turns out that my blood is invisible on the wall until I went into Eagle Vision. I don't know why this was; maybe it was just the universe trying to fix things, like history fixed the past by killing Akilina and Altaïr's child. Speaking of which, I had vowed to myself that I would not tell Akilina her kid's fate. She was just too happy right now, and I didn't have the heart to tell her the truth. Altaïr, in any case, would probably make me suffer a slow and painful just for "lying" about it. How Maria dealt with him, I have no idea, but she has got to be the most patient woman in the world.

**[DOS 29]**

One day. Tomorrow Ezio was coming for me. Almost everything I'd set out to do in thirty days was complete. The only thing left was letting Vidic go. I could do that with Ezio, so as of right now, there was nothing I needed to do except get the timeline back on track, which is sort of a constant.

I packed the Piece in a blanket, wrapped it up very tight. There was nothing else I needed to take with me, nothing of importance. The clothes were Abstergo's anyway, and were incredibly tight and uncomfortable. The fact that Lucy had remained undercover for probably years wearing only Abstergo's conservative black-and-white pencil skirt and a white blouse absolutely stunned me. I'd been here for only, what was it now? Three months? Only three months, and I was ready to burn my entire wardrobe to the ground.

Tying up the blanket securely, I felt along the thinner parts, making sure the raw energy of the Piece didn't shine through too much. Or, you know, incinerate the entire universe. I hugged the package once, and then carefully placed it under the bed. A tear fell across my cheek, and wiped it away furiously. Why the hell was I crying? There was nothing to cry about. Everything would be fine by the time the sun set tomorrow. But I realized then that there didn't have be a reason for crying. Sometimes it just happened.

I heard the faint whirring of machinery, and I came to the conclusion that Desmond's Animus session must be done. Sure enough, a few footsteps later he was walking into the bedroom, finding me crying for the first time in ten or eleven days. This must be some sort of record. Of course, his next actions were more predictable than a romantic comedy. Oh, jeez, pun was unintended.

I saw everything coming, from the instantly worried expression to the alien speed that he used to get from the doorway to my side.

"Anna, what's wrong?" Desmond asked, as he grabbed my hand, and I almost—_almost—_raised an eyebrow at the simple cheesiness.

Instead I just shook my head, hoping that no further questions were asked. Unfortunately, my luck is never that good.

"Anna, if this is about that bastard Vidic, remember that I'll _never _let him hurt you." Okay, even I had to admit that that was sweet. Whatever, I'll just float with it. It was all going to be fixed in about twelve hours anyway. Well . . . as fixed as it can be.

**I apologize for the shortness, but the next chapter will be worth it!**


	24. Caïssa

**Chapter 24**

**Dear followers of the Creed,**

**Here it is. I was getting a little hating *ahemKillYaahem* because it was so short, but I swear that this will be worth it.**

**Most sincerely,**

**AF**

_**Ah, the moon. I can see the stars. My mind is gone. I can't wait any longer. Lucy, I'm ready to go. . . . She sees me . . . raise . . the knife. –Subject 16, last known transmission (in Abstergo Industries).**_

**Song: The Scientist, Coldplay**

"**Nobody said it was easy;**

**It's such a shame for us to part.**

**Nobody said it was easy;**

**No one ever said it would be so hard.**

**I'm going back to the start."**

**{{DOS 30}}**

They're gone. They're just . . . gone. Into thin air. There's no trace of them. I was an idiot to think a blanket would do anything. I don't know if it happened in the night, or sometime this morning, or even yesterday when I wasn't looking. The only important thing is that they're gone. I should be happy for them, now that they get to go on with their lives. But all I felt was an empty hole, like someone had reached inside of me and ripped out a major organ. Why them, why now? Did the Piece somehow know about the deal I made with Ezio? If so, why did it wait until now? And why did it only take them; why not Abstergo, or Desmond or Lucy or Vidic or even Ezio? If it was to keep the game from gliching, then why did it come out of the Animus in the first place? They must have just come out with the Piece. An accident.

The bedroom seemed morosely empty without them. Even Lucy seemed down. I missed both of them dearly, even Altaïr.

[…]

Right now, it was about seven. I was expecting Ezio at midnight, though it dawned on me now that we had never agreed on a time. Well, that's nothing to worry about. He woke me up last time he came, I'm sure the same thing will happen. But I think I had to tell Desmond about my leaving before I went. It was going to be bad, but I've dealt with more awkward situations.

On second thought, maybe not.

[…]

Nine o' clock. My hands were shaking again. Anxiety was starting to affect me. My sessions were revolving around traumatic experiences my ancestors went through. One young Alexa whose parents were murdered by Templars right in front of her. A lady named Adilene who was tortured by Nazis in a concentration camp. Adalyn, who was raped by her stepfather and left to survive on her own; she was adopted by the Brotherhood. They were all like that, all awful and torturous to watch, to experience. Physical pain accompanied the sessions, each pain worse than the last. Each death more lingering than the one before.

[…]

_Any minute now. _I prayed as I walked back to the bedroom after another of my ancestors, Adria, had an arm cut off. It had to have been the worst pain I had ever experienced, not to mention the infection that came afterward. I was especially worried, because the session had gone longer than I had anticipated, and now both Lucy and Desmond were here, and Ezio was going to arrive at any moment. It was no longer necessary for me to feel my way to the bedroom; I knew the whole floor of the building by heart now, and I stumbled only because of my tiredness.

The door slid open and I flopped onto the bed, not even looking where I fell. I was too exhausted to care anymore. But of course my luck was horridly against me, and I ended up landing right on top of something sleeping and wearing a white sweatshirt. I yelped and jumped off to the side, almost falling off the bed. Desmond groaned and rubbed his eyes, turning onto his right to see me practically clawing at the blankets to stay on the bed. He smiled a rather crooked smile, reached over, grabbed my hand, and easily pulled me back onto the bed. I rolled over a couple times and stopped a bit too conveniently right against Desmond's chest. I wonder if he planned it like that. Most likely.

He slid an arm under me around my waist. "You know," he said smoothly. "If you wanted to give me hug, you just had to ask."

I rolled my eyes, but smiled all the same. Desmond may be cheesy, but that didn't mean he wasn't sweet sometimes. "Desmond, if I wanted a hug all I would have to do is get within ten feet of you."

He leaned over me, an even more crooked grin on his face. "What's that supposed to mean?" He asked teasingly.

I raised an eyebrow. "You're like a puppy, Desmond."

"How so, O wise one?"

"You're cute and overly affectionate." I inwardly winced as soon as the words came out of my mouth. Maybe I was pushing my luck . . . because now was a better time than any to tell him about my leaving. And doing little tricks like that were just going to leave a deeper wound.

His eyebrow rose devilishly. "Cute, am I?" He leaned forward, and I felt our noses brush. Careful not to hurt him, I put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him away just slightly.

"Er . . . Desmond, there's probably something I should tell you." I started. He looked confused, but levered himself up to look at me clearer. Biting my lip, I continued. "Well, I don't really . . . I don't really know how to say this, but any minute Ezio is coming here again," Desmond's eyes hardened into solid gold. "To take me back to my house, or away from here, however it turns out. And . . . and I'm so, so sorry, Desmond, but you can't come with me. Neither you nor Lucy can. That's just the way it has to be."

I could tell Desmond was angry, but if it was at me or Ezio I didn't know. "Why, Anna? Why haven't you told me this?"

I winced. "B-because . . . I couldn't. And you can't come with me because that's how the timeline is. I-I know things, terrible things, I know everything about what's to happen to you and Lucy in the near future, b-but I c-can't tell you. I-It would mess everything up. So I ask only one thing of you, Desmond." There was no response. (Quite ironically) in Assassin's Creed I had heard that silence was just another form of consent, so I continued. "Desmond, forget I ever was here. Please, that's all I need you to do. Just forget about me, forever."

For a heartbeat it looked like I had just grabbed Desmond's heart, put it through a wood shredder, and then thrown all of the tiny pieces into an incinerator. I felt really crappy right about then.

"Anna, how could I ever forget . . ." He trailed off, the heartbroken look gone, replaced by something else. His head tilted slightly to the side, and his eyes flashed. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought it was something close to humor, but then it was gone, too fast for me to identify.

"Okay, Anna. If you're leaving, then could I at least have a good-bye kiss?" He asked a little too hurriedly. _What. The fuck? That was out of nowhere. Very unlike Desmond, too . . . I wonder why—_but my thoughts were interrupted when Desmond roughly pushed his lips against my own. I furrowed my brow, slightly ticked. What the hell was that all about? But I stopped being (as) angry at him as he stopped being as intense and leaned back, softly kissing me. A blush crept up my face, but I ignored both it and the Guilt Worm laughing at me, and gently put one hand on the back of his neck and another on his shoulder. Of course, then the whole 'soft' part about it ran out the door, and the next thing I know we're making out—again. Except this time felt different, somehow. Desmond's, I don't know, _aura _felt a little bit too smug. Was it smug? It seemed like it. Or maybe I was imagining it.

No, I was not imagining it. Because just then the door opened, and in walked Ezio.

[…]

I was so surprised and horrified I barely had time to register rage. Because now I knew the reason for Desmond's mysterious forwardness, and why he had seemed so smug, and why he had looked off to the side for a second. His hearing was way better than mine, and he had _heard _Ezio break in. He had _known _that Ezio would come in here to look for me. _He wanted to give Ezio a taste of his own medicine. _I felt my heart begin to rip apart at the sheer selfishness of men. Throwing myself off the bed, I leaned over to where Desmond was now sitting, and promptly slapped him across the face.

"You _bastard!" _I screamed at him. "You aren't any different than Ezio! You were hurt the day he came here; I knew that much, and now you think you can turn the tables on him? Bastard! I thought I could leave on good terms with you, Desmond! Apparently not." The last two words came out as a snarl. Spinning on my heel, I marched out of the bedroom, dragging Ezio with me. I heard Desmond saying my name, but I ignored him. We still needed to cut Vidic free from where he was tied up. Out of the blue it hit me that we'd had him in that same chair for a whole month. He was going to need to change his pants.

I snatched the card from the hook next to the door. When everyone had been taking shifts feeding Vidic, Lucy stopped holding onto the key and just put it on a hook so the person whose shift it was could just grab the key instead of hunting down Lucy.

Stomping into the conference room, I demanded Ezio for a knife to cut the wire holding the still-unconscious Vidic to the chair.

Hesitating a moment, Ezio said warily, "I do not think that would be wise of me, _bella, _considering your current temper—"

"Oh for Christ's sake." I sighed exasperatedly and, quick as a flash (that Bleeding Effect was working wonders) snatched a large sultan's knife from Ezio's belt and slit the wire, all in one quick movement. Ungraciously handing the knife back over to a blinking Ezio, I picked away the remaining wire away from the scabbed-over cuts and red skin. Some areas had healed over, so I literally had to rip the wire out of new, fresh skin. It was gruesome work, true, but it had to be done, no matter how much of a douche Vidic was.

After it was all done, I grabbed both of Vidic's wrists and began dragging him out into the Animus room. Ezio stepped over quickly and began to pick him up, but I stopped him.

"Don't, Ezio. This guy doesn't deserve the luxury of being carried." I said coldly, and so I hefted the doctor's body out into the Animus room, where I leaned him up against the machine.

"There. Hopefully everything will be as it should be." I looked at my watch and racked my brain to remember Lucy's schedule. She got to Abstergo in about . . . five hours. Yikes. I had wanted her to be here, so that I could pretend, but I guess blood will have to. Well, if she was the only one here, she knows enough about the situation, and about the directions I had given her. There would be no need for a body. Turning to Ezio, I quickly told him what I was about to do. He was against it immediately, as I knew he would be.

"Anna, that is mad!" He hissed furiously. "You cannot expect me to sit here and wait while you—"

"Yes, I do." I said with a tone of finality in my voice. "Don't worry; Desmond can't be in there either, so you can beat him up out here. Just one thing: you need to come in and get me." I gave him the code to unlock the doors I had written on a piece of paper. "Ask Desmond how to use this." Were my instructions. I reached and grabbed the sultan's knife from his belt again "I'm going to need this." I said dryly, and, concealing the knife behind my back, I walked into the bedroom.

[…]

"Desmond, get out." Desmond was sitting on the end of the bed, his head in his hands. At the sound of my voice, he jumped up and ran to me.

"Anna, I'm so—" He started, but there was no time for apologies.

"Save it, Desmond. Just get out. I want to think." With that I pushed him toward the door and, before he could protest any further, typed in the locking code I had stolen from Lucy. I was alone.

Revealing the sultan's knife, I took a deep breath, steeled myself, and swiftly drew the blade across the back of my arm. Agony exploded in me, and it took all I could not to cry out. Mustering up all of the willpower I had in me, I sliced the knife across my thigh, and my other arm, and across each wrist. Satisfied with the amount of blood I was producing, I stumbled around the room as quickly as I dared, making sure to get blood on every available surface. The sheets, the dresser, the floor, the walls. I made sure it was all spattered in red.

My head began to spin, and my hands were icy cold and shaking so bad that I dropped the knife. Shuffling to the door, I slapped my hand against it several times, but by then I couldn't get the strength to even stand. Sinking to the ground, I dimly noticed the door sliding open, and Ezio saying my name.

[…]

The Animus. That was where I was sitting. At least, I thought so. It was curvy and metal and lit up. Blinking hard several times, I began to sit up when my body suddenly roared with a pain so blindingly intense that it was all I could do to lie back down again without passing out. Parts of my body felt different than others, and it turned out that there were bandages across my body where I had been cut. I heard voices, and I looked to my right to see Desmond and Ezio shoving their way out the door of the bedroom, apparently in some sort of race to see who could get to me first.

Ezio won. Grabbing my hand, he rattled off a stream of Italian so rapid that the only thing I caught was _Grazie a dio, _or, in English, thank God. Jesus, how does he talk in Italian like that with the Earth in?

"Ezio, Ezio," I chuckled, stopping him. "I can't understand anything you're saying." The Assassin's face turned slightly pink, but he apologized quietly. I smiled at him, but the smile faded when I saw Desmond behind him. There was a tortured look on his face, and I felt awful all of a sudden. My previous anger toward him had disintegrated, leaving only a bitter taste in my mouth.

"Desmond." I said. Ezio turned around, a strange flicker of emotions passing across his face. But he stood up, letting Desmond get through to me.

Desmond shook his head. "Are you suicidal, Anna? Why would you do that?" He sounded irritated. "You almost died, do you have any idea—"

"Desmond, under the bed there's a blanket, hiding something very precious to me. Could you go get that for me?"

Desmond looked outraged. "Of all things, Anna, why that?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Did you not hear everything I told you in the bedroom? I'm leaving, Desmond, half-dead or not. And I really, really, need the thing in that blanket.

I could tell he was aggravated, but he walked off to the bedroom anyway.

Ezio was suddenly next to me again. "He was right, _bella. _You could have been killed."

I sighed sadly. "I know. But it had to be done; the blood had to be there. It had to be mine." I looked him right in the eye. "Ezio, when Desmond comes back, we need to get out of here right away. No questions."

Ezio looked like he was about to say something, but Desmond came back and interrupted him.

"Anna, whatever's you've got here feels . . . weird. In a good way." Desmond was transfixed by the bundle he was holding, though he had not even opened it yet. I'm sure if he did his head might just explode from the sheer power. That was a joke, that was a joke!

"Desmond, bring it." I held my arms out weakly; they hurt the most. Desmond brought it to me, but there was just a second's hesitation before handing over. My mind unconsciously flew to the Lord of the Rings trilogy, where whoever came in contact with the Ring had serious trouble giving it up, and people killed their best friends to keep it. I guess the Piece was our very own One Ring. How funny.

I tightened my grip on the Piece, and Desmond snapped out of it. He bent down over me laying on the Animus. "Anna, please, don't do this. Don't leave." I saw something glitter, and I realized Desmond was about to cry. The fact rocked me to my very core.

"That's the way it has to be." I said sadly, my own eyes beginning to burn. "Goodbye, Desmond."

Almost as if on cue, Ezio silently moved in and scooped me up off of the Animus and carried me to the cracked-open window. My heart did several flips at the sight of the drop before me, but I turned around to look at Desmond instead. He was still standing at the Animus, looking torn apart. I raised a hand and was about to say another goodbye, but then I was falling, hurtling towards the ground, the image of a heartbroken Desmond burned into the back of my eyelids.

My tears dried in the rushing wind, leaving nothing but tracks of salt.


	25. Consumed In Flames

**Chapter 25**

**Dear lovers of blades,**

**It's getting harder and harder to come up with those opening things. Well, anyway, everyone is saying that they're expecting a big reunion, and I'll try, but don't get your hopes up. Ezio DID sorta walk in on her making out with Desmond, and, well, not even Ezio can get over stuff like that easily.**

**Most sincerely,**

**AF**

**P.S. This song made me cry like a baby, and I NEVER cry. Ever. I swear if you listen to it and read this you will too. :') **

**Song: A Dustland Fairytale, The Killers**

"…**I hear the bell don't ring; I hear the bell don't ring!**

**I hear the good girls die. Now Cinderella, don't you go to sleep,**

**It's such a pity form of refuge. Now don't you know the kingdom's**

**Under siege, and everybody needs you! Is there still magic**

**In the midnight sun, or did you leave it back in '61?"**

**[DOS's have ended]**

We landed roughly in something that was a curious shade of pink and squeaked oddly. Shudders ran through my body from the aftershock of falling out of the building. My first sensation was of utter agony. The bandages around my wrists, arms and thigh were dotted with fresh blood splotches. The second sensation that reached me was of crippling, mind-wrenching, heartbreaking sadness. My heart began to slow down to its regular rate, and I realized my chest was shaking from quiet, dry sobs racking through my body. My hand brushed something soft and cloth-like, and my hand tightened into a fist, pulling the cloth closer to my body and hugging it like a stuffed animal. Finally the tears came, flowing down my face and soaking into the cloth and the neckline on my shirt. I hiccupped violently, my shoulders jerking hard enough to make me wince. The hand that wasn't clutching onto the cloth was gripping my hair, right at the artificially red tips. I felt like tearing it out. I decided then and there that when I got home I was dying my hair jet black. My hands dragged more and more of the cloth towards me, and I realized that one side of it was dark brown, while the other white. At last I yanked the source of the cloth towards me, and I didn't even care that it was a certain Assassin's shoulder I was now hugging. After several minutes, I managed to choke out several words.

"E-Ezio . . ." I hiccupped. "W-where's Leah?"

A hand touched the side of my face, and I flinched away, almost against my will. The hand disappeared. "She will be waiting for us around the corner. We should go; she will be expecting us soon."

The cloth of his cape was pulled away from me suddenly, and I found myself yearning for it, if only for the simple need for wanting something to hold onto as I cried. I felt a shift in weight in the pink, squeaky stuff we were sitting in, and for a fleeting moment I wondered why we were in packing peanuts, before I figured that there was really no better modern version of the hay bale or wheelbarrow of rose petals then good old packing peanuts. My stomach twisted, and I decided that for now, the word "good" was not part of my vocabulary.

For a few more precious moments I lay in the peanuts, not wanting to move. It felt like something inside of me had been ripped out, something very close to my aorta. After a few more minutes, two large, warm hands dipped into the packing peanuts and pulled me out gently, and a rhythm picked up as I felt Ezio begin walking. I curled into a tight ball, my bandaged wounds searing in pain now that I wasn't cushioned by the Styrofoam.

The world moved in slow motion. I saw buildings moving lazily past, and cars strolling along the roads. Every step of Ezio's boot seemed to take minutes. The tears on my cheeks seemed to move at a snail's pace. It took my mind a while to realize that the building Abstergo was transferred to was only a few miles from my house. The thought fully formed in my mind as Ezio reached my car, Leah situated worriedly at the wheel. I saw the faded form of Emily in the passenger seat, looking just as panicked.

At the sight of us approaching, Leah leapt from the vehicle and bolted toward us, horror clear on her face. Regret washed through me like a cold wave, regret that I had to injure myself to accomplish Sixteen's timeline. _No. _My _timeline. _

"Anna, oh my god—" Her eyes raked up and down my sliced and bandaged arms and leg. "What happened!" The sound of her voice cut through the air like a blade.

I was about to answer, but Ezio jumped in for me. "There were complications." He said shortly. I gritted my teeth and tried not to roll my eyes. Complications. Great. Now Leah probably thought that Vidic and all his happy little Templar friends were going to come rushing after us. And maybe they were, who knew.

Leah began walking back to the car, not stopping telling me that I was going to get killed, and I had her worried sick, and that it was already the end of September and Mary-Alice's wedding was in May and that was when I started to register panic. My sister's wedding . . . it was so much closer than I had thought. Time melted into a meaningless blur in Abstergo. I had known at least three months had passed, but it still shocked me to come to terms with the reality of it.

Ezio lowered me into the backseat of the car, and I faintly heard the gentle purr of my car starting. Emily turned in her seat and smiled at me, but there was irritation and worry behind her eyes as well. I tried to push the Guilt Worm out of my mind, because now it wasn't just guilt for . . . well, for the Desmond situation. It was guilt from the decisions I was forced to make in Abstergo.

The car began to rumble down the road, and I sighed shakily and laid back in the backseat, only to realize with a sharp start that Ezio was sitting where I had just tried to lie down. I began to sit up when the Assassin gently put his arms around my waist, so I was forced to lean up against his shoulder. My body went rigid, and small chills ran up and down my neck. But despite my rather confusing uncomfortable-ness, I commanded my mind to sleep, and before too long I slipped away.

[…]

I woke up only when we arrived at my house. Ezio was carrying me to the door, and I blinked lazily, trying to get my bearings. Oh, I need to scan the eye thingy to get in. I cracked a sleepy eye open and the scanner beeped. Ezio opened the door and carefully set me down on the couch next to the door. Before he could even close the door, I found myself tumbling off the couch and onto my soft white carpeting. My hands clenched into the soft familiarity, and for the umpteenth time in the past three months, tears were rolling down my cheeks and into the carpet. Something wet touched my forehead, and I looked up to see none other than Gladstone peering curiously at me with his saggy eyes.

With a cry, I threw my arms around his little bulldog neck and kissed the top of his head. "Oh, Gladstone, at least you're alive." I wept. Hard, racking sobs shook my body, sobs that told a story and represented a lifetime of hurt. Sobs that were not just my own tears, but the tears of Akilina as she gave birth to her child, and the tears of Desmond as he watched me disappear out a window, and the tears of Lucy in those days when she thought Desmond was beyond her reach. Tears that did not always need to be shed to be heard.

Arms fell around me; arms that I realized belonged to Ezio. I wept harder. It was terrible and beautiful, being back to my house . . . for days in Abstergo I had thought that I was never going to come home, was never going to see my sister get married. And now I could. I could go on, I could continue . . . but deep down, I knew it would never be the same. Like the gashes on my arms, some scars just would never heal.

I let Gladstone climb affectionately into my lap, and I curled up on my carpet, the pup lying across my arms. For a moment before I went to sleep, the question crossed my mind: no one could get into my house, they would need my eyes. So where was Ezio staying for three months? As soon as the question crossed my mind, I dismissed it. It didn't matter. And I didn't care.

Eventually, Sleep slipped its velvet claws around me, and I was gone.

[…]

_Blood, everywhere. On the walls, on the floor, on me. White sheets stained red. The world was crying red. My mouth opened in a soundless scream. Turning, I saw the door open, and Ezio and Desmond stood there, side by side. Ezio was holding something pulsing and bloody. Peering closer, another scream ripped itself from my throat as I realized what it was. It was a human heart. His eyes glowed a blinding golden, and I turned away, as it became hard to look at him. Instead my gaze fell to Desmond, and it seemed as though my cries would never end. On the left side of his chest, there was a huge, gaping hole, right where his heart should have been._

_I was drowned in blood as my world was consumed in fire._

[…]

I jolted awake with a scream. Sunshine shone cheerily through my windows, but I felt anything but. Cold sweat coated my body, and violent shivers were making my hands unsteady. It felt like I should be crying, but no tears came out. Maybe I was all out. So I just sat there, shaking and breathing raggedly. Something shifted next to me, and it hit me that I had woken Ezio up. His hand found mine, and I felt his lips brush the back of mine.

"_Buongiorno, bella." _He said murmured. I flinched away, and one of my nails scratched the side of his face on accident. There was utter silence. I lowered my hand back down to Ezio's face, but stopped just before I made contact. No. Not yet.

Sighing, I stood up shakily. "Come on," I whispered, my voice apparently not yet up to the challenge of talking at a regular volume. "I'll make scrambled eggs."

I began limping to the kitchen, absentmindedly wondering where I had put my black hair dye.


	26. Can I Do It?

**Chapter 26**

**Dear blades in the crowd,**

**As we all know, this story has been…getting along. And, well…-sniffles- we all know that no story can last forever…so it is my deep and sincere regret that this is the last chapter. It has been an honor being a source of entertainment to you all. **

**Most sincerely,**

**AltairsFan123**

**P.S. As a special treat, I'll put a song for every time skip instead of just one for the whole chapter. How about that? **

**Song: Summer In The City, Regina Spektor**

"…**And I didn't feel like coming but I also felt like crying**

**And it doesn't seem so worth it right now."**

**[Eight Months Later]**

"Ezio . . ."

"_Si, bella?"_

"Drop the soda."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because if you _don't, _I will disembowel you and use your blood as syrup on my pancakes. I need caffeine today, and you are not going to be the one to deprive me of it."

This was where I found myself on the day I was leaving for Eden Prairie, Minnesota. Mary-Alice's wedding was this month, and I was going to spend a week there, taking time off with the family and explaining Ezio to everyone. His back story was that he was an assistant at my publishers, and that since we were now "going out" he was automatically coming along to the wedding. The same way that Leah and Emily were bringing their beaus to the wedding as well. They were invited because although they were technically my friends, Mar had been friends with them for as long as I had.

But Ezio was, of course, grinding on my nerves like a cheese grater. Denying me my Dr. Pepper was not a wise move on his part. Not at all. Sick of stretching up on my tiptoes, desperately trying to reach the soft drink that was just beyond my fingertips, I decided to go with the unsportsmanlike approach. My hand whipped down and poked Ezio in the stomach, hard. It probably felt like being stabbed with a very dull knife. He gasped from surprise, and I hastily ripped the Dr. P from his hands before it could dump everywhere.

Cackling in triumph, I danced around the small kitchen while chugging as much of the soda as I could without drowning. But I was taken by surprise, however, as Ezio, with a laugh, jumped forward and gently grabbed my wrist. Shocked at the sudden move, I unconsciously dropped the Dr. Pepper.

I watched with fascinated horror as the small can plummeted toward my perfect white flooring, images of me cleaning for years to get the stain out flashing behind my eyes . . . and before I could blink, Ezio reached down and plucked the can right out of the air.

My jaw almost hit the floor. "Holy shit, that was _ninja!" _I exclaimed in shock, my eye twitching slightly. He bowed, always the gentleman, and handed me the beverage into my hands, which I had never gotten to stop shaking completely. Over the past however many months, my hands had continued to shiver slightly, and I feared that now I would never be able to hold them still again.

[…]

Song: Back To Boston, The Rosebuds

"Out on the road on the way to Boston,

I fell in love."

"Ezio, you're cutting off the circulation in my hand."

Ezio winced apologetically and kissed the back of my hand in compensation. I blushed but did not stop him; I didn't have the strength to anymore. He had been clenching my wrist during the takeoff of our plane departing from Seattle, and it was really pretty funny to see one of the most dangerous men who had ever lived get scared by riding in an airplane.

"This is much worse than your wheeled machines, _bella." _He murmured, so none of the other passengers could hear. "How are we flying without wings?" He peered suspiciously out the window to see the ground rapidly falling away. His face turned just the slightest shade of green and he sat back in his seat quickly.

I smiled and patted his hand with only the slightest hint of sarcasm. "It's okay, Ezio." I said softly. "Just bear with me, and we can both make it through this wedding alive."

[…]

Song: The Suburbs, Arcade Fire

"…Grab your mother's keys, we're leaving!

You always seemed so sure that one day we'd be fighting

In a suburban war…"

I jumped off the plane, bounding toward my family holding up an obnoxious sign with my last name on it. Rolling my eyes internally, I smiled and hugged my mom. My mother was a soft, tall woman, whose face was pleasantly craggy from past years of un-healable acne. She looked a lot like me, but without the red tips on her hair, and hers was a few shades darker brown, more of a dark chocolate than a milk chocolate. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Mary-Alice next to my father, holding hands with Daniel, her fiancé. The young man's bespeckled face was slightly pink, and I caught him glancing at my sister every now and then, as if he couldn't believe his luck to be engaged to such a great person. I waved at them, and Mar waved enthusiastically back at me, Daniel giving a short little raise of his hand in greeting.

It was then that I remembered that I had in fact brought a killer with me. Turning around, I spotted Ezio looking rather confused and watching everyone suspiciously, like someone was going to leap from the shadows and attack him. Sighing, I trotted over to Ezio, hefting my large duffel bag over my shoulder as I did so. Grabbing his hand, I dragged him over to where my family was standing.

Introductions were intensely awkward. My mother and sister seemed very pleased that I had found a "boyfriend", Daniel was pretty indifferent, and my dad looked happy, but I could see underneath that he was ready to tear Ezio apart until he could prove his worth. There were no questions about my shivering hands, or my slight limp from the muscle damage in my leg, or the obvious scars on my arms. They probably thought I was a cutter now, which ironically depressed me, but I tried to ignore the dead feeling in my gut. I tightened my hold on Ezio's hand, shifted my bag, and set off with my family.

[…]

Song: Wish You Were Here, Pink Floyd 

"So. So you think you can tell,

Heaven from hell, blue skies from pain.

Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?

A smile from a veil…do you think you can tell?"

My sister's house was beautiful, with lots of greenery and vines crawling up brick walls. The inside was spacious and a nice off-white color, with potted plants and a very large greenhouse with all varieties of plants you could think of, from simple foxglove to a genetically altered orchid that whistled a second register B flat every hour.

So it was with great amusement that I watched Ezio jump a couple feet in the air as the orchid chirped, and he very nearly cut the poor flower right off its stem.

I quickly hauled Ezio away, trying to look less like a couple of freaks and more like a sister and her boyfriend.

We walked into the main room, where a crème couch sat behind a dark wood coffee table. Small, brightly colored plants sat in beige pots on top of it in no particular order. Mary-Alice had a thing for the genetically altered plants, which did all sorts of things, whistling being the most complicated of them. One black rose shed its petals every twenty-four hours, growing a new stripe of color every day until, on the seventh day, it was a rose that was rainbow-colored. Another pot was overflowing with sunflowers that were no bigger than the tip of a pin. Yet another had tall-stalked, small-capped mushrooms that you could pick off and eat; they tasted like cotton candy.

No sooner had I taken in the familiar sight of my sister's house then I was whisked away by my mother and Mary-Alice, claiming that we had to catch up on everything that had happened. I tried to get back to Ezio, but it was useless.

After being forced into my sister's bedroom for the three of us to talk "girl talk", I was first assaulted with embraces, and kisses on my cheek, and I was hugging my sister and mother, and we talked about what we had been doing for the past year. I told them about my book, and Mary-Alice informed me of her new business making all-natural jewelry. After about twenty minutes, what I dreaded most came up; questions about Ezio. Where did he come from, was he my boyfriend, was I engaged, was I being safe, etcetera, etcetera. To which I answered Italy, yes (with a slight wince), no, and Mom I'm in my twenties of course I'm being safe, and there isn't even anything to be safe about. Seemingly satisfied with my answers, they wanted to see my dress.

Rolling my eyes, I unzipped my bag and pulled out my dress and mask. There were collective gasps from my female family members.

"Anna, it's beautiful." Mar said, looking awestruck. "Where did you get it?"

"I have my sources," I said with a wink. "Back in the coffee capital of the U.S."

After they admired it a bit more, I folded the thing and tucked it back away, saving it for the wedding. It turned out that I was going to get my normal bedroom back, the one in the back of the house where you had to climb a spiral staircase to get to it. Hugging my sister one more time, I grabbed my bag and retreated to the room, watching with mild interest as a semi-transparent soldier charged ahead of me up the stairs; when I reached the top, he was gone.

[…]

Song: Brain Damage, Pink Floyd

"You lock the door and throw away the key,

And there's someone in my head, but it's not me.

And if the cloud bursts thunder in your ear,

You shout and no one seems to hear. And if the

Band you're in starts playing different tunes,

I'll see you on the dark side of the moon."

**[The night before the wedding]**

The blankets were suffocating me. I could swear that they were tightening, cutting off my air supply. I needed to get out, now.

I threw off the choking sheets and stood up, almost falling over from the head rush. My feet made no noise as I padded across the smooth hardwood floor, past a recliner, over my bag, and down the stairs into the main room. The house was eerily silent, everything in the house pitch black except for a strange yellow light coming from the greenhouse. Furrowing my brow, I walked into the room, wallowing in the humid air. There were no light bulbs or candles, just plants. I found the source of illumination quickly; it was coming from a small patch of daisies with white centers and yellow petals that were glowing brightly. Smiling, I sat in a small cushioned stool next to the flowers and began stroking the velvety petals, the golden light reminding me of another such "fruit".

The Apple was in my bag. I couldn't trust it to be at my house, even though it was normally hidden under my bed. What if I was robbed? Very bad things could happen. So I came to the conclusion to keep it wrapped up, so as not to attract attention. In those eight months after our escape from Abstergo, several questions were brought to my mind. Why hadn't Vidic come after me? Where is Desmond, the warehouse or Abstergo; or somewhere else? Was I going to be hunted down, since I was now preventing them from launching the Eye Abstergo? Desmond couldn't possibly be at Abstergo, because if the timeline was correct, then it was only a couple weeks after I left that Lucy took Desmond away to the warehouse, and then later to the ruins of Monteriggioni. But as I thought about this more, a horrible, yet wonderful idea hit me. But no . . . I couldn't do that. I couldn't abandon Mary-Alice and mom and dad like that, who knows when I would see them again? My heart began to wither, like a flower without enough sunlight. It was the only option. It would explain why Abstergo was no longer bothering me. It made sense.

But could I do it?

A slight creak made me jump sharply, my hand jerking hard enough to rip the head off of the daisy-like flowers. Swearing lowly, I tried not to think of the chastising I was going to get for killing one of Mar's beloved flowers. Grinding my teeth, I turned to face the direction of the sound, and was confronted with Ezio, looking at me curiously and deviantly at the same time. Only Ezio could pull off that look.

Pressing a hand to my collarbone, I tried to catch my breath. "Ezio, you really scared me. Don't sneak up on me like that."

Ezio smiled gently and sat next to me on another stool, and I felt his arm carefully sneaking around my waist. Rolling my eyes internally, I leaned up against him. I looked down at my hand, suddenly remembering that I had the top of the flower still cut off, the glow that resided in it quickly fading to a pasty mustard, and then to nothing at all.

I grinned and held the flower up so Ezio could see it. "Watch it." I demanded, and we waited. There were several moments of utter silence, when suddenly the now normal-looking flower burst into a bright yellow flame. In a practiced movement, I flipped my hand toward the plant box where the rest of the daisy things were swaying, quick enough so that my hand was unmarked. The flaming petals fell gracefully into the dirt, where I could see tiny yellow dots emerging. Seeds, fallen from the flame.

Ezio looked entranced. "What was that?" He asked.

"It's called a yellow phoenix flower, but they come in red and orange too." I explained quietly. "It was so much fun helping my sister plant these things . . . this was my parent's house, too, and when we were little we used to get bad burns from holding onto them too long . . ." I laughed humorlessly. "Ironic, isn't it, that the new flowers are born out of the old buds dying? It's the chemicals that were injected into the original prototype seeds, you know. They react with the air when they get cut, like the white sappy stuff in dandelions. The flame instantly ignites the rest of the flower, and the seeds that were stored in the center are released, and new ones bloom."

I cast a sideways glance at Ezio, who looked like he was about to say something, but I beat him to the punch. "Ezio, there's something I've got to do after the wedding. Something you might object to, but it needs to happen."

He turned to fully face me. "Anna, what are you—"

"Don't Ezio, don't try and find out what I'm planning beforehand. It'll all become clear when we get back to my own house." I explained, a slightly resigned tone in my voice.

Ezio furrowed his brow, the concern on his face even clearer than before. "_Bella, _I cannot help be concerned. The last "plan" of yours almost killed you. I . . . do not want you getting hurt. So I need you to promise me that whatever this plan is, you will not get injured carrying it out."

My heart jerked. Heat flooded my face, and I realized I was crying. It was a common occurrence now, thanks to the nightmares, but this felt different. My limbs felt heavy and clumsy, and a hiccup escaped my throat as I moved away from Ezio. No, moving away wasn't going to do it. I needed to get out, now. Even the suffocating blankets would be better than this. Standing up abruptly and almost knocking over the stool, I rushed out of the greenhouse, following a semi-transparent eagle out and leaving behind a hurt and confused Ezio. It seemed that was all I was doing these days.

Crying and hurting.

Song: Beautiful Thieves, AFI

"Oh,  
are we running toward death? I have met him times before  
He adores us like the rest. Oh even if we're discovered  
Just be sure to wear your best; we will surely make the covers  
Oh!  
If we run this light, take a little life, no one will care at all  
Oh!  
We can burn it and leave, for we are the beautiful thieves  
No one suspects at all."

**[The wedding] **

**P.S.** **http : / / joechip (dot) net / liana / uploads / october09 / halloween-masquerade-costume-series-six-white-lace-gown-with-red-ruffles-tabbed (dot) png**

My dress fell down in white and red ripples, the top tying elegantly at my waist. The forearms were covered in more ruffled red fabric, making it look ironically like blood. White silk was layered down my front, with intricate gray designs along the edges. The collar was an obtuse V-neck lined with soft crème silk, and there was a small bow tied at the top right of my ribcage. The layered cloth down my sides started bright, extreme red at my hips, and then slowly got lighter in color until my ankles were rimmed in snow. My mask covered my entire face, with strips of red silk tying to tie it on the back. It was plain white, excepting a small, inch-long red scar-like mark on the right cheek of the mask.

I was sitting next to Ezio, who was dressed in his Assassin garb, the outside of his cape white for the occasion. Earlier I had gotten ready as quick as humanly possible so I could get to Ezio's room and force him to leave all of his knives in the room. The one thing he had on him was his hidden blade, which I had convinced everybody was a fake. To try and match him (since we already kinda were with the red-and-white scheme), I had grabbed the sultan's knife at the last second and tied it to my waist with a strong piece of red cloth.

I thought it was hilarious that we were going to masquerade wedding when in the second game Ezio went to a masquerade of his own, so I asked my sister if she could make a mask that looked like it. I had found a picture of the mask online and printed it, so now Ezio was in fact wearing the half-mask. It was freaking me out.

So I didn't look at him too much, because I couldn't bring myself to. After my breakdown the night before, I tried to talk to him as little as possible, the weapons thing being an emergency. So I focused on my sister walking up to raised platform, Daniel looking positively ecstatic in his tuxedo, wearing a simple black half-mask. Mary-Alice was grinning softly, but I could tell underneath that she was just as happy as Daniel was on the outside. It all seemed to happen very fast—they said their vows, they kissed, we all clapped, I saw my _father _crying alongside my weeping mother, and the next thing I knew the maybe fifty people were all getting up to go dance in the outdoor patio.

My sister had grown ivy over the top of the gigantic patio, with small wooden support beams just to keep it up growing at first, but a couple days ago she had removed the beams. These was more genetic mutations of plants, or at least that had been what Mar had told me, but right now they weren't doing anything exceptional.

People were dancing to all sorts of tunes, from rock to slow music, and someone put on the theme song to _Titanic _and a bunch of my sister's annoying friends were sobbing all over each other. There were little snacks set out on tables the lined one side of the yard, all of which had a plate with a different type of food in the middle on silver plates.

As the sunlight waned and stars began to peek out, a DJ appeared out of nowhere (although I'm sure she had been there the whole time) and started playing "All The Right Moves" by OneRupublic, and I wandered over to a table the was set out with delicate champagne glasses, blown to give the look of leaves curling up the sides. Sipping at one conservatively, I was observing the layout of exotic hummus varieties when I was bowled over by a panther.

Well, that's what it felt like. It was actually Leah, who was wearing a black dress of so many different materials just slapped together that for a moment I thought she might have fallen into a funeral supply warehouse. They were all layered, with ruffles and folds and creases galore. A shiny, corset-like piece was tight around her waist, and it hung ragged stripes down to about her thighs. It was beautiful, accompanied with an intricate metal mask that you could see right through.

"H . . . hey Anna! Where ya been?" She slurred, and laughed hard. I smiled at my drunken friend. Oh, Leah. Looking up, I saw Emily standing behind Leah, watching her warily. Catching my eye, Emily sidled up next to me.

"I really couldn't stop her. She found those glasses and it was like she'd never seen liquids before." Emily explained.

"Hey!" Leah called. "Are you talking about me?" She stumbled over to us and slung an arm around my shoulders. "Ya see that guy? That . . . yea, that one over there. Ya see him?" She gestured in the direction of a certain Assassin, who was currently chatting up a couple female guests, both of whom looked rather red in the face and were giggling a bit too enthusiastically. I nodded.

"Yeah, that's Ezio. What about him?" I asked pleasantly. Leah grinned and giggled like a little schoolgirl.

"He's really cute." She whispered, but it wasn't really much of a whisper.

Just wanting to get the subject past, I agreed. "Yeah, he sort of is." I glanced up, and for a split second I thought that Ezio caught my eye with that little grin he had, but then it was gone and he was back to flirting with the two girls, leaving me with the odd feeling that maybe I had imagined it all. "Listen, Leah, dear," I said quickly, pulling the delicate champagne glass out of her hand and steering her toward the table with the hummus. "Why don't you eat something, maybe go talk to someone, just lay off the alcohol for tonight, okay?"

Leah groaned unhappily like a little kid. "But that's really good . . . um, what is that again?" She gestured loosely at the glass and began cackling like a crazy person.

Smiling at the contagious laughter, I nodded at Emily. "Don't worry, Anna." Emily said reassuringly. "She shall not get hurt while I'm here."

"Thanks, Emily." I said, relieved. "What would I do without you?"

"Perish in the worst way imaginable."

"Oh, right."

Laughing, I was walking back to the table with my glass when a slow song came on. A _really _slow song. The kind that makes me want to go sit under a table until it was over. Which was, of course, when Ezio decided to swoop out of nowhere with a laugh, and the next thing I knew we were dancing.

Sighing with frustration, I went with it, leaning my head against his shoulder slightly. Behind him, I spied Daniel and Mar dancing, whispering in each other's ears, Mar giggling sometimes. I looked away to give them some semblance of privacy.

"Ezio . . . why do like me? I'm nothing special. There are plenty of other girls that are much more interesting than me, and prettier, too. So . . . why me?" I asked quietly. I needed to know this. There was nothing about me that I myself found appealing, though in retrospect Ezio was probably just doing all of this as an elaborate scheme to get into my pants.

It was then that the flowers kicked in their magic genetic powers. The leaves on the vines above began to glow a bright white glow, so that we were now ceilinged in by white light. It was so beautiful, all I could do was stare at the vines above us, my thoughts only interrupted when Ezio answered my question.

"_Bella, _there is nothing about you I can pin down." He whispered in my ear, and a chill ran up my spine. "You are not like any of the girls I have met. And as to why I love you? Well, that is like asking why the Sun revolves around the earth. There is no explanation; it just happens." My eye twitched when he said that, but not because he was totally wrong about the Sun thing. It was because I had asked him why he liked me—not why he loved me.

The song ended. With that, I firmly decided that I could not do it.

Song: Follow Me Down, 3Oh!3

"So follow me down. (Where to?)

Outta this town. (With you?)

Girl, you're moving way too slow."

**[The kitchen of Anna's house, two weeks later]**

"Okay, Ezio. This is what we have to do."

I told him the plan. I grabbed the blanket. I kissed his cheek.

Whipping off the monotone Abstergo blanket, I exposed the Apple in all of its temping glory. The glow coming from it seemed brighter than ever. My heart reached out to it, wanting to succumb to the power, but I resisted. My decision was made, and I wasn't going. He could go, live his life. But I was done. I couldn't bear to keep Ezio away from his family and Italy anymore. It hurt every day, for the past almost—has it really almost been a year? My head spun. Ezio needed to go, now. No matter how much it may hurt. How much it will hurt.

A tear ran down my cheek as I held the Apple out, reaching into it with my mind, searching and telling it what it was that I wanted—needed—done. A bright glow filled the kitchen. More tears leaked through my eyes, and I jumped when I felt a warm hand brush my face.

"_Bella . . ._"

And then I was alone. I crumpled, the Apple rolling out of my hand. He was gone, gone forever. Sobs shook my body, and I didn't try to get the Apple. I just needed to—to go and—and drink some coffee and—and chocolate. T-that'll make me feel b-better. Shaking, I shakily stood up, turning in the direction of my room, letting the nice warm breeze rustle my hair, making me feel free and drying the salty tracks on my cheeks. Wait . . . breeze?

Blinking furiously, I looked around, almost giving myself whiplash trying to get a take on everything. Cobbled streets. A wheelbarrow of rose petals next to me.

"Oh, no . . ." I whispered.

It looked like I could do it, after all.

_Fin. _

_Or is it?_


	27. Thanks And Notes

**After note.**

**Listen, I know all of you were expecting some surprise extra chapter, but that isn't going to be the case. Sorry. Just listen to me before you go ahead and hate, however. I can deal with hate.**

**I just read some more reviews, and I just wanted to go and say that I love all of you just as much as you have loved reading my writing. Especially Shellythesnail and platinumblind, because I love both of you just so much. I can't even begin to explain the happiness reading your reviews has given me, you guys are so loyal. –Gives cookies-**

**Another special thanks to Woodnote, because I almost went into cardiac arrest when you told me you were drawing something for my story. Love ya lots.**

**ClumsyAssassin21, review more and shut up. ;) Love youuuu!**

**MaryandMerlin, Nameless Daydreamer, you guys have been awesome. ND, I think you have been with me about as long as Shell, so I thank you for sticking with me this whole time. **

**And a love note to all of you who read this and didn't review, and the others whose names were not mentioned here. My love for you is so great; there are no words to describe it. **

**Thank you all for reading, but I have some bad news and good news. And then some more bad news. And then some more good news.**

**Good news: There will, in fact be a sequel. It involves Anna in Ezio's time period, and yes, he has followed her there. **

**Bad news: I haven't started writing yet, and I'm not going to for a long time. A few months, at the very least.**

**More good news (at least for me): I have another story up, and it rocks a lot. But some of you might not care for it as much, it is NOT an Ezzy story. Alta****ï****r X OC, sorry sorry sorry, but I really like it. Check out my profile to find it. Thanks.**

**More bad news: I can't remember what I was going to say here, so I guess I'll just keep going. :P**

**I LOVE YOU. So much. And now it's time to bid farewell, for although it had a good life, Masquerade's time has come to an end. If only it could have gone on forever, but what goes up must come down.**

**Farewell,**

**AltairsFan123.**


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